


I Wish I’d Known Who You Were From the Start

by wellthisisprettyrisque (collettephinz)



Category: Catfish: The TV Show, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: 2016 era, Anxiety, Bad coping mechanisms, Catfish - Freeform, Coping, DOT - Freeform, Deception, Drinking, False Identity, M/M, Manipulation, Modern AU, ever seen Catfish on MTV?, lying, rediscovery of feelings, that with Ryden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6677626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/wellthisisprettyrisque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'PANIC! AT THE DISCO frontman BRENDON URIE breaks silence on SUDDEN DIVORCE'</p><p>“Fuck,” Ryan said to himself. “Now I can’t even go on Twitter.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Running Man, Running Man, Breaking Down the Door

**Author's Note:**

> whenever someone asks me what i'm doing my immediate response is drugs
> 
> i could be mowing the fucking lawn and
> 
> "what are you doing?"
> 
> "drugs."
> 
> loveliest beta: [cemeterydrivethru](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cemeterydrivethru)
> 
> but yeah, if you've ever watched the show Catfish by MTV (which i (somewhat shamefully) recommend), you'll know what the gist of this is gonna be. heartbreak and healing. huzzah.

**“PANIC! AT THE DISCO frontman BRENDON URIE breaks silence on SUDDEN DIVORCE”**

Ryan stared at the headline with weary eyes, blinking sleepily against the false light of his computer. As if his plans for the day hadn’t been nerve-wracking enough.

“Fuck,” he said to himself. “Now I can’t even go on Twitter.”

Going on any sort of social media today would be just plain stupid. He knew he would have an onslaught of questions from fans, demanding answers that he didn’t know the first thing about. He didn’t want to read the comments and the questions and the rude statements and all that shit that made him cringe whenever he looked in the mirror. He didn’t want to face the ruthlessness of fans that were misguided and probably got it in their heads that this was somehow Ryan’s fault. How could this be Ryan’s fault? He hadn’t seen Brendon since Adam Levine’s Halloween party. Brendon was still content with pretending Ryan didn’t exist unless Ryan was in his personal bubble, and god, Ryan was only just now becoming okay with that. 

He was only now starting to cope with how fucking shitty it was to lose every friend you’d had from when you were a kid and having to make new ones. He’d rebuilt his life and was finally moving forward, and yeah, a speed bump was coming up, there was definitely something awful about to happen in his life, and he knew exactly what it was, so he was going to just duck his head and avoid social media to ignore the screams of enraged fans who had it in their head that Ryan was still a major deciding factor in Brendon’s life.

Then Ryan realized that the entire reason he’d gone online was to talk to Paul, and he could only talk to Paul on Twitter, the very sight he was planning to desperately avoid.

Ryan’s heart sunk as he continued to stare at the article on his phone, wondering if it was even worth reading. He wondered why Brendon was divorcing Sarah. Ryan had had the chance to talk to her a couple times over the past few years, enough to know that she was a genuinely nice person who loved Brendon dearly. She was also really pretty, fucking gorgeous, to say the least, and Ryan had seen the appeal in her eyes alone. He’d known that Brendon was over him, he wasn’t going to delude himself into thinking there was anything left between them, regardless of whether or not he wished there was. Ryan was an adult now. Nome useless pining for someone who’d broken his heart as much as Ryan had broken his. 

Ryan sighed, then the sigh turned into a long groan, because of course he was going to have a shitty day. Dot had thrown up her breakfast, Ryan had broken one of his shoelaces early this morning while getting dressed, and now he couldn’t talk to Paul, the only person who made him feel okay, the only person who could comfort him through what he was about to do. Ryan looked around, then, hoping his long groan hadn’t disturbed the other coffee-drinkers around him. 

He was in some local coffee joint a block away from his regular place near his apartment, so there wasn’t a sense of familiarity that could calm him either. Ryan had purposefully chosen a place that he didn’t find comfort in to do this because he couldn’t stand associating negative feelings with another place that used to enjoy. He liked that little coffee store down the street from his apartment. He didn’t really care about the place he was in now, which made it perfect. If things went horribly, then Ryan wouldn’t ever have to come here again. And if they went well, then who knew— maybe Ryan would have a new place to get his coffee whenever he grew bored of what came out of the machine at home.

Ryan sighed again and pulled out his laptop, setting it down on the small round table in front of him and starting it up. A few files of songs long abandoned still sat on the desktop screen, and he did his best to ignore them. He’d been doing that a lot, lately; ignoring his problems so they couldn’t hurt. Gabe had called it a coping mechanism and Dan thought it was just plain stupid. Ryan didn’t care what they thought, either way. He was doing his best.

He brought up the browser and then brought up Twitter (against his better judgement) on his phone, skipping over everything togged to direct messaging, and relaxed when he saw Paul’s handle had a notification. 

_hows my boy doing today???_

Ryan smiled at the message, heart clenching, bittersweet. He knew he couldn’t tell Paul what he was doing. Ryan knew Paul would either try to talk him out of it, or ignore Ryan for days on end, let it turn into weeks, leave Ryan feeling empty. Ryan wasn’t going to risk it, so he wasn’t going to tell Paul what he was doing.

He’d seen the show one night while browsing channels at three in the morning to help him ignore the alcohol Dan had left in his fridge. The show was about poor kids being lied to and tricked into thinking they were in a long distance relationship with someone who didn’t actually exist. He hated to think people were being manipulated like this, but now that it was him? It was even worse. 

Ryan hated tricks. He hated being tricked. He hated being lied to and manipulated and used and he hated people who did this to other people thoughtlessly, like it didn’t fucking matter who they hurt and who they made sick and how the victims would never be able to sleep again, eat again, trust again without remembering how they’d been so stupid as to listen to the lies of an artificially screened serpent so easily. 

Ryan hated to think that he’d been so desperate to be so blind again.

He found a page through MTV that had a “casting application,” and wondered if he was really going to be doing this. If this was really a good idea. If he wanted to put his face back out there on a camera that wasn’t held by a friend, if he could handle this, if this was going to save him or break him. God, he hoped it would save him. He wondered if exposing himself to the world again would be worth it, or if he would just be laughed at. He’d been laughed at before. There would always be a tight knit little group of fans that still wanted Ryan happy and making music, but the longer he didn’t put out, the more nervous he was that those numbers would dwindle. Those fans loved to defend him. He just didn’t know how long that would last.

Fuck, but he had to do this.

He pulled up the email address given after filling out the application. MTV had asked a few questions in interviews that had really fucked him up years ago. He knew someone there would recognize his name, and god knew that having the former guitarist of Panic! at the Disco would be really good for ratings. He almost hoped that they would skim over his name and forget his face, but he was betting on that not happening. A sinking feeling in his gut made it hard to see straight, so he went to the register, ordered a second cup of coffee, and went back to Paul.

_u good hippie?_

Ryan snorted a laugh at the message and typed out a halfhearted response. He figured he’d kept his imaginary friend long enough.

. . .

“What’re their names?” Dan asked Ryan as they walked a part of the beach they weren’t allowed to be on at this hour. Dan was drinking vodka from inside a fucking brown bag, and Ryan had a bottle of Guinness that was actually filled with fizzling apple cider. 

“Max and Nev,” Ryan replied, faking a hitch in his step. “I’m pretty sure they’re gay.”

Dan snorted. “Is that why you went to them for help? Because they’re fucking homos, like you?”

“Something like that.”

Dan turned around, downing a swig of his drink while still maintaining eye contact with Ryan. Ryan waited for him to speak his mind “…I saw that Brendon Urie got divorced,” Dan finally said. “Figured that was why you called me up tonight. Didn’t think you just wanted to talk about your diva decision to call for help using a fucking TV show. A pretty popular one, I should add. Didn’t think you wanted to be in the spotlight so soon.”

“I don’t want to be in the spotlight,” Ryan replied. “I want to know who Paul is.”

“Ugh, fucking Paul!” Dan huffed, rolling his eyes, the whites shining bright despite the absence of the moon. The flood lights from the seaside energy plant light things up well enough for them to see and not stumble too much. “He’s such a fucking tool, Ryan. Going around in the shadows. Won’t tell you where he lives. Won’t tell you his last name, for god’s sake.”

“His name is Paul Gin,” Ryan retorted.

“His name is not Paul Gin,” Dan deadpanned. “No one has the last name Gin because no one would be dumb enough to keep the last name of a fucking type of alcohol. Even if it totally would get them free shots at some seedy bar with top heavy waitresses.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Ryan mumbled. He finished off his apple cider and tossed the bottle to the ground. A surge of guilt went through him for littering, because littering was something that drunk Ryan would do. Ryan fucking hated drunk Ryan.

“I think you should just drop Paul and find someone tangible,” Dan advised. “And with tits. You love tits. Everyone loves tits. And you know who was pretty damn cute? Who was good for you? Helena.”

“Helena broke up with me,” Ryan reminded him, shoulders tense. He wished he was drunk so he could deal with this.

“Helena can totally come back,” Dan said. “I mean, she left because of the nightmares, right? And the pining. And all of that shit. And the fact that you’d be over the moon about shit that Brendon posts. I mean, I totally don’t blame her for backing out. I would’ve backed out too. But you can totally win her back if you just break up with this Paul asshole and get back to reality. You’re Ryan fucking Ross. You don’t need to date people online.”

Ryan chose not to comment on a number of things that Dan had said. Like how nonchalant he was making the breakup with Helena sound to be. How simple Dan thought it would be to get back together with Helena when Ryan didn’t even want to. How Dan made dating sound just so fucking easy, even though it wasn’t, especially when you were “Ryan fucking Ross.” Ryan wasn’t going to comment on any of these things.

“I need to know who Paul is,” Ryan told Dan instead. “Just so I can know that he isn’t another fan trying to talk to me and use me. Or… or if he is.”

Dan shrugged and took another long drink of his vodka. “You know what’s dumb?” Dan asked, obviously setting himself up for a rhetorical statement. 

“What?” Ryan wasn’t asking because he wanted to know. He just wanted Dan to get off the topic of Ryan. 

“Fucking saltwater,” Dan huffed. “It’s like, here’s god— fucking god, am I right? And he looks down and says, let’s make eighty fucking percent of the world water! Angels are all, oh, good idea, so they can always have water for surviving, and— “make it undrinkable.”” Dan laughed and wiped his nose., vodka splashing onto the sand. “What a fucking asshole!”

Ryan smirked a bit. “What an asshole.”

He looked up at the sky and tried to think of anything but Brendon, yet ultimately failed

Yeah. What an asshole.

. . .

Ryan was really surprised to receive the email notification from MTV saying that his application was accepted, and even more surprised to find an email from the Nev guy, asking about a good time to have a Skype conversation, or if he would rather just meet in person. Ryan would definitely rather meet in person. The less time he spent in front of any sort of camera with strangers, the better.

The response to Ryan’s response came within the hour, and Ryan tensed when he realized that Max and Nev would be in the city tomorrow morning. He debated sending Dan a text, but knew that he would just be mocked. Ryan was okay with getting mocked most days, but right now he was feeling especially fragile. Probably because Brendon had put up a selfie of the new pace he was renting, and it was definitely a lot closer to Venice beach than Ryan was comfortable with.

_’u seem distant. everything ok babe?’_

Ryan shuddered when he saw the message light up his phone. He and Paul didn’t text because Paul said it cost too much, and they certainly never called each other, which was why Ryan had begin to suspect Paul wasn’t who he said he was in the first place. But he still took so much pleasure and comfort in being able to talk to him.

‘just been going thru some things’ 

Ryan knew his response was weak, but he couldn’t say much else without give too much away. He didn’t want to start a fight with Paul. He couldn’t handle that sort of thing right now, and the most they’d ever even fought over was if Han Solo or Indiana Jones was the role Harrison Ford was born to play (Indiana Jones, god dammit). Ryan wasn’t about to drown himself in stupid arguments and pray that Paul didn’t hate him. Which was even more stupid, because why the hell did he care so much about someone who was lying to him about who they were? Ryan needed to get his priorities straight. He had to get past Paul already, because he knew this wasn’t going to end well.

Unless…

He called Dan quickly.

“What if I let myself be with whoever Paul actually is?” Ryan asked, dead serious. “Like, what if I get with them anyways? As long as they’re not some crazy fan. What if they’re a nice girl? Or a cute boy? Or just anyone? What if they’re actually good to keep around? What if I date them?”

 _”Then you’d be pretty damn stupid,”_ Dan chuckled. ”Don’t fucking do it.”

“Dan, I’m serious!” Ryan insisted. “I already know Paul’s amazing, I already know I can love him, and I can have sex with any gender! Girls, guys, vaginas or dicks, I don’t fucking care! I can sleep with anything, so sex isn’t the issue. What if I can form a real relationship with this person, whoever they are? What if I can…”

Ryan trailed off. He didn’t want to say what he was going to say next.

 _“Ry,”_ Dan sighed. _“I don’t think you’re ever gonna forget Brendon.”_

Ryan hated hearing those words because he knew they were true. “I could,” he lied.

 _“Oh, fuck yeah, you could,”_ Dan agreed. _“If you weren’t fucking surrounded by him. If you weren’t friends with Brendon’s friends. If you didn’t see his picture everywhere because people are assholes and tag you in Brendon’s stuff so you have to see it. I fully believe you could forget Brendon if you didn’t live in the same city as him and didn’t get asked hundreds of questions every day about him. Fuck, Ryan, the world doesn’t want you to let go of Brendon, so you can’t. No one wants you to move on, so you won’t. It’s that simple and that stupid.”_

Ryan wanted to slam his head into the wall. “I hate this,” he choked out. 

_“God, kid, I fucking know you do.”_

Dan sighed and Ryan didn’t say a thing.

_“Look, I’ll be over there in thirty minutes with those deep fried vegan Oreos from Doomies, okay? Give me until then. You’ll be fine.”_

Ryan was sometimes really grateful to have Dan.

. . .

The knock at his apartment door sent Dot into a fuss, and Ryan almost didn’t want to answer. He knew there’d be a camera behind it. He knew he’d see the two men, have to introduce himself, have to explain why he was doing this and why this was what he wanted. His throat was sore because he’d choked on the deep fried Oreos, and he just hated being in the spotlight again. After producing videos for friends and fellow musicians, Ryan was beginning to realize that maybe he really preferred letting someone else be frontman to his art. He was content with that.

Ryan pulled on a second shirt, because he felt a little exposed in only his long-sleeve cotton tee, and decided that plaid was okay, as long as he didn’t fall into default hippie while wearing the plaid. At least he didn’t have a bandana on. 

Ryan answered the door and smiled politely at the three men he saw at his doorstep, one with a handheld video camera, and the second with a heavy-duty, legitimate camera, and then a man with nothing. Ryan squinted, recognizing one as Max, one as Nev, and the other as someone he didn’t know. Max was Ryan’s height, but Nev was actually a little taller, which was surprising. And a little reassuring. Because he always felt like taller people could handle things better than he could. 

“Ryan Ross?” 

Nev held out his hand with a wide smile, expecting Ryan to shake.

“Big fan,” Nev continued. “I was a little surprised to get your contact info from corporate. I’ve been listening to your music for years, you know. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Ryan wasn’t sure how to handle all of this, so he just gestured everyone inside. He was hyper aware of the camera lenses trained on his every move, and did his best to ignore them, to not look directly into them. He’d learned a long time ago to never look into the camera unless he was told he could.

Max and Nev sat on the couch, greeting Dot with warm grins, and Ryan sat in the armchair beside the couch, wringing his hands together, wondering just what to expect from all of this.

“Alright, so,” Nev suddenly began, smiling to Ryan. “Why don’t you start off with telling us a little about yourself and why you contacted us. What’s the story? Who’re we looking for? What does this all mean to you? Just so our viewers can get caught up to speed.”

Ryan worried his lower lip between his teeth before sitting back with a shrug. 

“Again, Max and I were a little surprised to see your name,” Nev said amicably. “Usually celebrities would prefer to take a different route. Stay out of the rumor mill.”

“I don’t care who says what,” Ryan replied stiffly. “I just need to know who Paul is.”

“And who is this Paul?” Nev prodded, still fucking smiling. Ryan wasn’t sure if this was how the guy normally acted, or if he was being extra careful because he so happened to know who Ryan was. Ryan kinda wished he could forsake being candid and tell Nev and Max and whoever that guy was that he didn’t care how they acted; he just wanted their help. 

“Paul’s the guy I met online,” Ryan informed them, still stiff. “At first, he didn’t know who I was, I think, cause I only told him my first name. We met through this dumb sight called I-Funny, he made stupid posts about music and he actually found my, commented on a comment of mine, we got talking, he had funny things to say, then we kept talking, a-and I gave him my Twitter, and I lucked out, because he wasn’t a Panic! fan, so he didn’t know who I was.” It had been a huge relief. Paul not knowing who he was meant he didn’t know anything about Ryan after 2008. That was a blessing. “He, he’s a kind person,” Ryan described haltingly. He never really talked about Paul outside of Dan and maybe Gabe because it was embarrassing. “He’s attractive. He sent me a few pictures of himself. Four or five.”

Ryan pulled up the photos on his show, showing Paul. An attractive man with stubble up to his cheeks, dark hair and a large nose with dark eyes. He had large shoulders and long lashes, and large lips and all of the photos were artistic and professionally taken, and Ryan knew that Paul had to have a lot of money to afford to have these photos taken just because he happened to have the time in the day to weave a couple flowers into his hair. Maybe he was a model? He wasn’t a model. Ryan hadn’t been able to find any model under Paul’s name. He hadn’t done much in the area of searching, but he’d done enough to become suspicious about details that didn’t add up.

“He likes music and plays guitar and shit,” Ryan continued, letting Nev show Max the photos. He watched the way the two men easily let their thighs press together, and wondered of that was a gesture of friendship, or something more. “He thinks the Redsocks suck and loves swimming, hates horseback riding, like watching horror movies and playing horror games.”

“Have you ever spoken on the phone or anything?” Nev asked.

Ryan shook his head. “Never heard his voice.”

Max and Nev traded looks like that wasn’t a good sign, and Ryan clenched his fists, hating the pity on their expressions. 

“I offered to get him a plane ticket or a bus ride or something so we could meet up one day, but…” Ryan shrugged. “He, he wouldn’t even tell me where he is. He won’t tell me where he is. Every time I ask, he says he can’t say, that it’s for the better if we don’t see each other face to face. That he doesn’t want to ruin what we have by meeting. That it’ll fuck up the chemistry or something.”

“Sounds like bullshit,” Max said, first words he’d spoken. Ryan cracked a smile, though it was more like a tug at the corner of his lips, an empty gesture to show that he agreed, but didn’t want to vocalize so. He didn’t want to talk against Paul to strangers. Kinda like how he didn’t like bad mouthing Brendon to anyone these days.

“What would you like us to do?” Nev asked gently, like it wasn’t fucking obvious.

“I need you guys to help me find him.” Ryan looked down at his fingernails and realized he’d been biting them again without ever noticing. “I just need to know who he is. I don’t care if you guys put this on the TV or anything, don’t care if everyone knows that I’m some pathetic asshole who fell for a person who doesn’t even exist offline. I don’t care. I need to know who he is so I can either repair whatever’s left of our relationship if it’s worth it, or… or move on.”

Nev looked remorseful now. “I know how you feel,” he told Ryan, though Ryan totally didn’t believe that Nev actually did. “Just know there’s no shame in falling for him. Max and I, we’re gonna head back to our hotel. See what we can dig up, find out who this is. Once we do, we’ll come back to you. See if we can negotiate a meet up for you both. Who knows? Maybe Paul is who he says he is.”

Ryan doubted that.

“Thank you for coming,” he said instead.

. . .

Gabe was in town, so Ryan had dinner with him that same night. Ryan regretted it.

“I got to see Brendon,” Gabe told him with a chuckle, looking like he’d had a good time today with the very person Ryan wished would stop existing for purely selfish reasons. He was so beyond tired of this.

“Poor kid,” Gabe continued, barreling on like it didn’t matter. He was on his third drink of something that tasted like peach and champagne, so Ryan couldn’t really put all the blame on him. “He seems pretty fucking distressed, you know? He won’t even talk about Sarah. Just kept looking at his phone like he was waiting for someone or something. Like he didn’t want to be real. Like the astral plane of sentience was becoming burdensome, and he wanted to live vicariously through news articles and blogs.” Gabe paused. “Kinda like you.”

“Fuck off, Gabe,” Ryan said with not true vehemence. He looked down at his knees that were exposed through his black, distressed skinny jeans.

“You had a cat. Now you have a dog,” Gabe listed. “What’s next? Plants?”

Ryan was a little surprised, because that totally sounded like a good idea.

“You’re doing that thing psychologists talk about. Transference? Or something like it.” Gabe finished his drink and waved for another. “You’re putting all your time and effort into these things that can’t give you the companionship you truly need as a human being, and, by doing so, you’re setting yourself back, like, thirty years.”

“I’m 29,” Ryan reminded him.

Gabe turned to him, slack jawed. “Oh my god… you’re fucking ancient. You’re like the crypt keeper.”

“You’re 36,” Ryan also reminded him, grinning. Gabe always seemed to bring out the best smiles in him. “I’m practically a baby compared to you. You’re the same fucking age as Pete Wentz, and look at him.”

Gabe closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes like he was trying to solve a sudoku puzzle or a benign math problem. “Since when did you refer to Pete by his full name?”

“Since we stopped talking.” Ryan shook his soda pop and watched the bubbles rise. “It’s been like this for ages, Gabe. There’s been no change, so I’m not sure where the disconnect is coming from.”

“Pete asks about you, sometimes,” Gabe told him. Ryan could have gone without knowing that. 

“He could just look at my Instagram or something,” Ryan replied, trying to sound nonchalant, like knowing Pete fucking asked about him wasn’t enough to make Ryan’s heart speed up and his hands clammy. There wasn’t any sort of love or anything there, just anxiety. He used to worship Pete. Still fucking did, a little, because how could you not when you’d known Pete like he had? Known him through Best Buy and everything. It was hard not to worship someone who went through so much and came out so supremely on top.

“He’s asked ever since I told him about Greece,” Gabe said softly.

Ryan looked to Gabe sharply, sitting up in his seat, alarmed and a little bit pissed. He didn’t want to ask the question because he shouldn’t have to ask. How fucking dare Gabe tell anyone about that?

“I was drunk, Ry,” Gabe confessed. Gabe was fucking drunk now, too. “He asked about your trip, wondered what was up, said that he liked the country and stuff and I was all, oh, yeah, yeah, Ryan went to Greece for a while, it was good for him, really helped, and Pete was like, helped with what?” Gabe sighed and accepted his new drink from the waitress. “And I just kinda told him why you went.”

“Who else have you told while drunk?” Ryan demanded, not bothering to keep the annoyance and even the hint of betrayal hidden. “Who else knows?”

Gabe bit his lip and hid behind the rim of his glass. “Uh… Guillermo knows.”

Ryan dropped his head back and stared at the sky, because of course Gabe told William. “Anyone else?”

“I mean, Patrick probably does, since Pete does.” Gabe shrugged, then looked like he was thinking, obviously trying to form a list. “Probably Travie. I might have accidentally told Travie. Uh, Zack, too.”

Ryan snapped his head back up. “You fucking told Zack?!”

“It was an accident!” Gabe defended. “We were doing fucking Irish car bombs together, I can’t keep my mouth shut after those!”

Ryan really regretted confiding in Gabe.

“I mean, but that’s it!” Gabe was looking like he was desperately trying to redeem himself in Ryan’s eyes. “Only, like, those four. Bilvy, Pete, Pat, Travie, and Zack. And then whoever you’ve told.”

“That was fucking five, and I haven’t told anyone but you and Dan,” Ryan grit out. “God, Gabe, I can’t… how could you?”

“You know what I’m like when I’m drunk,” Gabe mumbled.

“That doesn’t sound like a fucking apology.”

Gabe shrugged again.

Ryan hung his head in his hands.

Gabe tapped the table awkwardly with his fingers. “… Wanna hear about Brendon?”

“God, Gabe, why would I want that?” he asked with a groan. “Gabe, Gabe, fuck… You know how I am about Brendon.”

“I just figured it’d be a good way to get you off my fuck up.”

Ryan knew that was the closest he’d get to any type of remorse from Gabe. “Fine, Gabe. Fucking tell me.”

“Do you know why the divorce happened?”

Ryan shook his head. He hadn’t given in to reading the article.

“He wouldn’t tell me why,” Gabe murmured, expression distant as he remembered something. “I mean, again— he was practically glue to his phone. He was waiting for something. I think he was waiting for _someone_ , actually. I think he’d been, like, cheating. On Sarah.”

Ryan grimaced. He was very familiar with Brendon’s unfaithful ways. He’d thought Brendon had kicked the habit and truly committed himself to monogamy, but Ryan supposed all good things must come to an end, even decent morality. Ryan wondered who she was.

“Just can’t believe it ended,” Gabe snorted. “I mean, who else out there is worth it to him? He falls in love hard and fast, yeah, but he doesn’t fall in love with just anyone, and he’s fiercely loyal to his friends, so why…”

“Why isn’t he fiercely loyal to his lovers?” Ryan offered with a sharp edge.

Gabe grimaced. “I guess being with one person for the rest of your life just isn't for everyone.”

“Don’t try and justify how the pain he’s caused.”

“I’m not, Ry, I’m just trying to make you feel better.”

“That doesn’t fucking help.”

Gabe nodded, finishing his drink, and Ryan wondered if William had ever breached the subject of Gabe’s apparent alcoholism. “Well, look— if there was ever a time for you to rekindle a friendship with Brendon, that would be now.”

Ryan was offended Gabe would even suggest that.

“Same with Pete,” Gabe added, and that idea was a little easier to swallow. “Anyone, really. Probably, especially Pete. He’s worried. You know how he hates thinking about people going through hard stuff alone. He’s a good guy. A really good guy. Pete’s a fucking good guy, Ryan, and, and you’re lucky that he asks about you.”

Ryan bristled. “So, what, you’re saying I should be grateful that he gives me a thought a day?”

Gabe winced. “No. No, I fucked that up.”

Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Gabe to try and redeem himself again.

“What I meant is that… I mean, out of everything that happened, like, you’re just lucky that you’ve still got people asking about you. Because a lot of people were listening to Brendon and Spence and being so irrationally against you for a long time. Like the people online. You’re lucky that they’ve turned around. That they’ve grown up. I can’t image how rocky the road has been for you. I didn’t say you’re lucky in a demeaning way, just… you’re honestly lucky. Because they weren’t seeing straight for a long time and, to be honest, I’d never thought they would.”

“Any idea what changed?” Ryan tried and failed to not look interested.

“I mean, maybe it had something to do with what changed in Brendon,” Gabe thought aloud. “Though Pete’s been asking longer than whatever happened. The Fall Out Boy hiatus was a good break for Pete’s brain. I don’t know, Ry. I think I’m just grateful it happened. You have no idea how annoying it was to have to justify to them why I wanted to see you.”

Ryan was inwardly really fucking wounded by that.

Gabe looked like he was ready to wave for another drink.

“We should head out,” Ryan suggested before Gabe could do so. “Go on a walk. It’s a nice night and I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

Gabe nodded, playing with the edge of his glass. “Can I crash on your couch?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “We both know you’ll end up in my bed no matter what I say.”

“Right where I belong,” Gabe teased with a wink.

“Just know I’m elbowing you in the dick if you take the blankets again, asshole.”

. . .

“Should I be here when those guys show up?” Gabe asked as he took a picture of the breakfast Ryan had made him. Ryan was rather proud of the food. He’d scrambled some eggs, cooked some Canadian bacon, and found a carton of organic orange juice in the back of his fridge that he totally hadn’t forgotten about. Gabe was wearing a pair of Ryan’s boxers and nothing else, and Ryan was wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt that was definitely something he’d stolen from Jon ages ago. 

“I’m not even sure they’ll show up today,” Ryan replied, poking at his own eggs, not at all hungry. 

Gabe nodded slowly. “… How do you guys get off?”

Ryan would have choked if any food had been in his mouth.

“Do you guys sext?” Gabe continued, squinting at Ryan. “Has he ever sent you a picture of his dick? Have you sent him a picture of his dick?” Gabe ate a mouthful of ham. “Could I see your dick? Better than last time. Last time, it was way too dark to really appreciate.”

“God, Gabe, I’m trying to eat.”

Gabe snorted. “You liar, you’re not eating. Answer my question. Have you and Paul done the virtual deed yet?” Gabe was grinning, like he was excited to delve into the latest world of Ryan Ross gossip. “Ry, you should start talking, before I start getting worse.”

“I don’t see how you can get worse,” Ryan admitted.

Gabe fucking leered. “Have you thought of him yet, Ry?” he asked in a sultry tone. “Seen his cock yet, imagined having I'm in your hand, your mouth, inside you? Touched yourself thinking about him, had your fingers explore inside your body, pretending it’s him, shouted his name to the walls and you—”

“Gabe, fucking shut up,” Ryan choked out in a rush, blushing scarlet and throwing a napkin at Gabe to hide his shaking hands. “Fuck, Gabe, fuck. You kiss your mother with that mouth? Kiss William?” Ryan shook his head. “I hope you don’t. William’s a fucking saint. An angel. Any kiss from a mouth that has said those words would leave black stains on his skin.”

“Poetic,” Gabe chuckled. 

“Fuck off.”

“Have you?” Gabe pressed, grinning like the answer was going to excite him.

“God, Gabe, does it even matter?”

Gabe paused, then nodded. “It does matter, Ry, and I’ll tell you why. If you have done something intimate like that with him and it turns out that he isn’t real, that he’s been tricking you…” Gabe shook his head. “Then I’m gonna be around a little bit more. Because I’ll be really fucked concerned for your safety.”

Ryan couldn’t meet Gabe’s eyes. “We haven’t done anything.”

Gabe nodded. He looked relieved. “You should probably avoid it.”

“I have him under investigation. I’m not gonna try to encourage sex between us. That’s just too fucking weird, Gabe. And really messed up. Because then I’m manipulating him in a sort of way. I’m not that kind of person.”

Gabe nodded and Ryan’s phone went off. Ryan looked to the phone and saw the notification from Paul. His shoulders tensed fucking visibly and his leg bounced a bit too high, knocking Ryan’s knee on the table and nearly tipping Gabe’s cup over.

“Oh my god,” Gabe laughed. “You’re a fucking mess, baby.”

. . .

When Max and Nev knocked on the door, Gabe freaked out and tried to fucking hide in the bathroom. Dot freaked out with him, barking wildly, jumping around and clawing at Ryan’s legs, probably the most energetic he had ever seen his dog. 

“God, just come fucking say hi!” Ryan snapped, a little snappish with how anxious he was. He opened the door for Max and Nev, then instantly turned around to get Gabe out of the bathroom, not caring with how rude he probably looked, because jesus christ, how childish could Gabe be for thirty-six? Ryan didn’t want even more rumors to be created. “Gabryan 2016” or what the fuck ever. Ryan wasn’t sure he could stomach being shipped with yet another man that he just called a friend. 

“Is this a good time?” Nev asked with a polite smile that held a playful twinkle in his eyes. Gabe came out of the bathroom, though he more like fucking sauntered, acting like he hadn’t just tripped over himself to hide.

“Gabriel Saporta.” Gabe introduced himself with all the pride and pomp of the diva that he was. “Music producer and loving companion of Ryan Ross. Pleasure to meet you, sir, how you be doing? How is it? How’s the angle of the dangle?”

“Stop fucking talking,” Ryan said, staring at the camera that Max had trained on Gabe and Nev’s meeting. 

Gabe grinned like a piece of shit, obviously knowing what he was doing.

“Are you okay with him being here?” Nev asked Ryan.

“He was just leaving,” Ryan growled, leveling Gabe with his best glare. Gabe winked, then waltzed out of the apartment like he owned the place after messing up Ryan’s hair with his huge hands. Ryan’s arms were folded over his chest.

“He seems like a nice friend,” Nev chuckled.

“Did you find Paul?” Ryan asked, going with being rude. The camera Max was holding was still trained on him, and Ryan was growing increasingly uncomfortable as he considered what people would think of Ryan once this was shown on TV. Would they see Ryan as an asshole and feel even more vindicated about their hatred for him over 2008? Was Ryan just living up to their expectations or was he making things even fucking worse for himself and his public image?

Fuck, why couldn’t Ryan just become a hermit?

“We did a reverse image search for the images you gave us,” Nev said, tone becoming remorseful. “And we found who they belonged.”

Ryan steeled himself for the answer that wouldn’t sound anything like Paul’s name.

“They’re from a model named Alex Prange,” Nev told him softly and understandingly. “The model lives in LA, but he’s definitely not Paul Gin.”

Ryan ducked his head, hiding from the cameras with his hair.

“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Nev said, and Ryan believed that he meant it. “We could contact Mr. Prange, but I have a feeling that he isn’t your man.”

Ryan slumped onto the couch.

“I’m very sorry,” Nev repeated, sounding almost revenant, like he was respecting Ryan’s inner car crash of worlds. “From here, our options are simple. You give us your contact for Paul, and we contact him ourselves, see if we can work out a date for the two of you to met. We’ll work things out from there.”

Ryan went to his kitchen and scribbled down Paul’s Twitter handle and pushed it into Nev’s chest. 

“Do what you want,” he said, voice strangled by emotion that he didn’t want the camera to pick up. “Thank you for coming.”

Mac and Nev took it as their invitation to leave, and did so promptly.

Ryan was grateful.

. . .

Ryan stayed home for the rest of the day into the night and into the next day, talking to Paul until Paul stopped responding. He knew it was because Paul had been contacted by Max and Nev, he didn’t know if there could be any other explanation. Paul always took time to respond to him, only wouldn’t during certain times of the day. Those certain times of day were never between breakfast and lunch, and Ryan was sure that Max and Nev had spoken to Paul.

An hour after radio silence, Ryan received a message from Paul.

_knew i should have told u. wish i could have trusted myself. u deserve better. love u._

Ryan stared at the words and tried to pretend they didn’t mean what he thought they did.

. . .

Max and Nev came back the next day with the oddest expressions Ryan had ever seen on anyone in the past few years. They looked shell shocked and sun dried, deliriously tired and infinitely sad, but apologetically sad, like they knew it wasn’t their fault something was happening, but were sorry anyways and hurt for it, fucking bled for it.

Ryan had tea prepared for them because he felt badly for how he’d acted last time they’d met. Max and Nev and the cameraman had accepted the cups gratefully, then told Ryan that he should probably sit down.

“Who is it?” Ryan asked as he sat on the floor so Dot could be near him. He probably appeared childlike, but he didn’t care. His hands were shaking and petting Dot helped him feel better.

Nev hesitated. “… Upon discovering who Paul really was, the network told us we have to stop.”

Ryan blinked slowly. “What?”

“We talked to Paul’s true identity. He didn’t want us to tell you who he was, and, n-now that we know who he is, we don’t think you should know either. So we asked the network, and they told us we weren’t allowed to tell you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Ryan demanded, teeth grit together. “You’re not allowed to tell me? This is my life! You can’t fucking hold this back from me, what the fuck!”

“I’m sorry,” Nev choked out, wringing his fingers together. “But Max and I both agree that not knowing who this person really is will be better for you, in the long run. He’s agreed to leave you be. He won’t be bothering you again. This is a good thing, Ryan. You can move on. Live your life without him.”

“I don’t want to live my life without him!” Ryan shouted. “I wanted to live with him! Tell me who he is!”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t,” Nev continued shakily. “Out network fears legal backlash if we do. Paul’s identity is someone fairly famous and under huge, uh… company. We can’t tell you who he is. I’m sorry.”

Ryan dug his nails into his wrist. “Get out,” he ordered, then added, “please.”

Max and Nev nodded and left. Ryan now understood why they’d been wearing such odd expressions when they’d come into his home and torn everything apart.

Ryan decided that he was going to get so fucking drunk.


	2. Don’t Save Him - He Don’t Wanna to be Saved (Breathe in the Karma)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Identities are revealed (Ryan really should've seen this coming).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how weird do you think it is for celebrities to answer twitter shit and see their friend's picture as some random ass person like "oh hey nice question wait frankie what're you oh never mind just another one of those damn pics"
> 
> loveliest beta: [cemeterydrivethru](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cemeterydrivethru)

The bar wasn’t anything special— just down the road from the beach, but small enough to keep a lot of customers from blooding the thing and suffocating anyone who preferred to drown in alcohol. Ryan walked to that bar and stayed there long into the night, until the place was empty, save himself. It was only midnight, but it was also a fucking Tuesday, so everyone with a normal life was being a decent person and going to bed like actual adults did. 

Ryan was on his tenth something after another ten other somethings, and the bartender felt too sorry for him to kick him out. Ryan’s hand was wet from the perspiration of his drink, almost as wet as his cheeks, because he’d spent most of the night crying silently, wondering why his life was like this. He’d done the best he could. Done things he would regret forever for the sake of his dreams and the dreams of his friends, like he’d been told to do. He’d achieved those dreams, had listened to his friends, had partied and lived and loved, and what did he have to show for that? Nothing. Nothing but bruises that came from nightmares he didn’t remember and an inability to look in the mirror most days. His friends had to fucking make him take pictures of himself, for god’s sake, and he couldn’t even be the one to take them half the time. He’d gone to one therapy session, and suddenly everyone knew the best way to take care of him. It was demeaning. Humiliating. 

Ryan hated himself on his best days.

“Welcome,” the bartender greeted as the door swung open behind Ryan. The footsteps behind Ryan faltered, like something had made the new customer think twice about coming inside. Ryan was tempted to turn around, but drunk Ryan thought that would make the new customer feel un-welcomed, which totally wasn’t what the bartender wanted, and drunk Ryan was a bit of a people pleaser, so he would remain staring straight ahead, like a good boy.

The customer eventually sat down beside Ryan. The first thing Ryan saw was the guy’s arm. It was decorated with ink depicting Frank Sinatra’s face, a piano, a flower, and a “P” that was designed to look like an exclamation point. Ryan downed the rest of his pint of alcohol, not caring how messily the liquid trailed down his chin. He needed to feel nothing.

“I thought you didn’t want to be your dad,” Brendon said, voice soft and lilting and beautiful and so fucking condescending.

“I need you to leave,” Ryan said instead, not taking the bait. “I have had what has to be the worst day in my existence in the past few years,— which is really fucking saying something— and I can’t fucking handle this right now. I can’t handle you. Please, Brendon.” He looked to Brendon, drinking in the sight of the singer like a man getting his first taste of water after years in the desert. “Please. Don’t do this to me. Don’t hurt me like this. Not again.”

“Halloween wasn’t that bad,” Brendon defended lamely. Ryan held the glass in his hand so tightly that he prayed it would break and pierce his hand and give him a reason to leave. He wasn’t strong enough to leave Brendon without an outlier.

“Brendon, please,” Ryan begged, literally begging, he was not above begging at this point. He was too drunk to hold together a sense of pride.

“This is a public place,” Brendon sighed. “I have every right to be here.”

Ryan’s hands were shaking so badly that the glass was shaking too.

“Fuck, Ry, how drunk are you?” Brendon asked, sounding sad. He lied a hand over Ryan’s, and that was it. Ryan snapped his hands away from Brendon and the bar so violently that his stool wobbled. Brendon instantly reached out and put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder to steady hand, but Ryan knocked that away too. “Stop fighting me,” Brendon huffed. “You can barely stand.”

“I don’t deserve this!” Ryan spat.

Brendon sat back and arched a brow. “You don’t deserve what?”

“I’ve had a fucking shit day, a shitty week!” Ryan snapped, shoving a finger in Brendon’s face. “I’ve had my entire life torn apart because I fell in love with someone who doesn’t exist, and now they won’t even tell me who he is! I’m on the fucking edge of everything, Brendon, the end of my rope, I’m about to do something stupid and head to fucking Greece again, I’m gonna go make everyone fucking regret how they've talked about me behind my back, I don’t fucking deserve to deal with seeing you on top of fucking everything!”

Ryan’s hands were still shaking so badly, things just getting worse and worse and worse. Drunk Ryan never handled emotions well because sober Ryan never handled emotions well in the first place. He couldn’t be expected to act normally in this situation. He couldn’t act normally in any fucking situation, god, and the alcohol was burning his veins like fire, and it was hard for him to see straight and not drown in his need to get more alcohol into his system. Drunk Ryan made dumb decisions seem really fucking smart.

“Shit, Ry…”

Ryan blinked sluggishly and tasted salt and realized that he was crying.

“Ryan,” Brendon murmured, actually reaching out to touch Ryan’s face, so Ryan quickly pulled back. His heart couldn’t handle knowing how different the callouses on Brendon’s hands had to be after so many years. “Ryan, don’t cry,” Brendon said gently, no longer trying to touch Ryan, but still not getting out of Ryan’s space. “Fuck, Ry, what’s wrong? Where’s this coming from? Is it cause you’re drunk?”

Ryan scowled and sputtered, nose running with his eyes, sniffling and making ugly sounds. He wasn’t an attractive cryer no matter what was in his system. 

“You don’t know what it’s been like,” he choked out, lower lip trembling. “Watching you on screen, seen how amazing your voice and talent has become. The music you make is s-s-so beyond anything I could’ve created, a-and it hurts to see how much I failed myself. How much I failed the band, f-failed Pete, failed you, Brendon! I fucking failed! Fever was a cluster fuck of me being a shitty teenager, and Pretty Odd was…” He trailed, off, shaking his head. “I-I failed you and I failed myself.”

“You didn’t fail anyone, Ryan,” Brendon sighed. “Your music has saved lives. You can’t fail when you’ve helped people like you have.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” Ryan huffed, shoving Brendon back an inch and wiping his nose with the top of his arm. “It won’t work!” He was stubborn. He wasn’t going to let it work. “It won’t work. I-I don’t want to listen to you. I just… I want to be alone. I want to drink. I don’t want to think about you. I-I think about you every fucking day, Brendon, I just, I want a few hours where I don’t have to see your face, whether it’s behind my eyelids or not.”

Brendon looked very, very sad.

Ryan felt guilt shoot through him like a bullet. “Don’t… don’t look like that.”

“Don’t look like what?” Brendon asked. He waved down the bartender and asked for a beer. “Don’t look like I feel? Because I feel pretty shitty, Ry. I know neither of us got off well emotionally after 2008, but fuck, I never expected you to be this fucking wrecked by it. You seemed a lot stronger when you were leaving me behind.”

“You fucking cheated on me!” Ryan exploded, throwing his hand across the air. “Fucking twice! That I know of! What the fuck, Brendon, I-I didn’t leave you behind! You left me behind! You left me the second you went between that girl’s legs!”

Brendon blanched. “Ryan… Fuck, I told you I was sorry.”

Ryan was about to throw his fucking glass in Brendon’s pretty face. He was sure that fucking forehead would probably deflect the glass and bounce off and hit Ryan in the nose, because that was his fucking life. Ryan clenched his fists instead and tried not to get irrational. Drunk Ryan was prone to saying things sober Ryan would regret.

“Sorry doesn’t let me trust you again,” Ryan said instead, looking down at what was left in his glass and throwing it back anyways.

Brendon fingered his own glass, not looking at Ryan. “You know, I had a hard time trusting people again too.”

“Oh, I can tell.” Ryan rolls his eyes. That was bullshit. “Sarah took not even a year. You can’t fucking lie to me. You got over it a lot easier than I did, especially with your fucking endless fan base giving you their support.” Ryan sneered. “They would’ve dropped fucking money and their firstborn children on your doorstep if they’d thought it would help. They loved you. You were the fucking angel. You couldn’t have done anything wrong in their eyes. Obviously it was Ryan Ross, the household asshole, who ended their favorite band and destroyed their futures and their dreams and their will to live and—”

“Jesus, Ryan, don’t do this to yourself,” Brendon interrupted, now sounding tired too. “Is this what you’ve been telling yourself?”

Ryan shook his head. “This is what they’ve been telling me.”

Brendon paused. “… I’ve seen endless support for you by fans, Ryan. What are you talking about?”

“You see the support. You don’t see the hate.” Ryan tried to wave for another drink, but the bartender was steadfastly ignoring him. It was just as well. Drunk Ryan didn’t need anymore poison in his system. He’d probably end up killing sober Ryan like his dad had killed himself.

“Ry, there’s not nearly as much hate as you seem to think. Most of our fanbase still loves and supports you. They just want you to be happy. With the recent break ups and losing your music to that fucking computer crash— they love you, Ryan. You can’t pretend they don’t exist.”

Ryan looked down, not wanting to feel guilt for this. He wanted to keep feeling sorry for himself.

“Your fans love you,” Brendon continued softly. “And so do my fans. They ask about you all the time. At least once a day, I get a message or a tweet, asking about you, if I’ve talked to you, if I’ve seen you, if I’ve even thought about you. It’s like they’re scared I’ll forget you and what you used to mean to me and what you’ve done for me. And you’ve done a lot, Ryan. I’m not stupid. I know I wouldn’t be where I am now without you. You wrote the words, you and Spence let me sing for the band, and you were the one to hound Pete until he gave us a shot and saw our potential.” Brendon smiled a bit. “You kinda made me, Ryan. And I should always remember that, so I always will remember and I’ll always be grateful.”

Ryan’s lower lip tremble and he dug his nails into his thighs.

Brendon reached out and rested a hand on Ryan’s back. Ryan didn’t try to pull away from the touch, but he didn’t relax, either.

“What happened to you, Ryan?” Brendon asked.

Ryan shrugged, playing with his glass, letting it roll rhythmically on the bar. “You were lucky. You had all these positive people. These relationships. I-I… I tried. But I didn’t. I was with the wrong people. I didn’t get to keep Spencer. Didn’t get to keep Pete. I really only had Jon and Gabe, a-and even Jon’s gone, now. I just… let the wrong people leave. You had Sarah. Pete. Patrick. Spencer and then Dallon and Breezy and all of these people that knew how to take care of you and make you feel loved. It… it was what you deserved.”

“You deserved the same thing,” Brendon told him.

“That doesn’t mean it’s what I got.”

Brendon nodded and looked straight ahead. “… I’m divorced now, Ryan.”

“I know,” Ryan replied.

“Do you know why?”

“Funny,” Ryan snorted. “Gabe asked me the same fucking thing.”

“And what did you say?”

Ryan sighed and refused to let himself to hit his head on the bar. “Fuck, Brendon, I-I have my own problems. I can’t let myself be caught up in your any more than I already am. I can barely live without seeing your face or hearing your voice, and that’s just on my computer alone. I don’t want to live like that.”

Brendon’s expression had dropped with every word. “Do you hate me that much?”

“What?” Ryan looked oddly horrified. “What the hell? No. No, no, jesus, I-I don’t hate you. I don’t hate people in general. Hating people takes too much time. I don’t have that kind of energy, Brendon. Don’t have that kind of freedom. I’m not gonna hate you. Not gonna hate anyone. I don’t believe in hate.”

“You used to,” Brendon pointed out. “You hated a few people.”

“And look where that got me.”

“I always figured you would hate everyone,” Brendon said, like he was thinking out loud. “Like that bitter old man across the street. Who would shout at people until they were gone.” Ryan thought that Brendon was not drinking enough to be spilling his thoughts like this so casually. Only half of Brendon’s drink was gone. Brendon had always been the one to talk nonstop, but never really say a lot. Brendon wasn’t nearly drunk enough to be so truthful right now. 

“When I got married, I’d always thought that was it,” Brendon sighed. “I didn’t think I’d ever have to be remarried. I thought Sarah was it. I’d lost you, so I couldn’t really see myself ever getting lucky enough to find my third soulmate. I was lucky to find the first one at all.”

“Who was the first?” Ryan asked with the petulance of an upset toddler. “The girl who was sucking your cock at the Chicago show? Or that one girl you fucked in Missouri? Or do I not even know her? Was your first soulmate one of those girls I never really caught you with?” Ryan sneered and uselessly waved for another drink that he wouldn’t receive.

Brendon was quiet for a moment. “… It was you, Ryan.”

Ryan tried not to let his hands start shaking again. But his shoulders did. His whole body shuddered like he’d been electrocuted, which was a pretty accurate analogy. He couldn’t be Brendon’s first soulmate. Who the fuck cheated on their soulmate? And how could Ryan have been such an asshole to Brendon if they were soulmates? He was assuming that soulmates were mutual, of course. And Ryan was also assuming that being soulmates with someone meant you were required to commit to total monogamy. Ryan still couldn’t believe Brendon thought Ryan was his soulmate, though. He sure as hell had never acted like it. Neither of them had. Hell, Ryan wasn’t sure soulmates was even a thing.

“We both became assholes,” Brendon sighed. “I’ll admit to it. So should you. Both of us handled the fame differently. Neither of us handled it well. You became cold and anxious and standoffish and you acted like I was annoying more often than not. You acted like everyone annoyed you, really. And you were too caught up in your head to notice. Too overwhelmed by the pressure of the new album, and your dad dying, and the idea of being gay for your lead singer. It was too much for you, too much for anyone to handle. And you were just so cold to me that I… I needed warmth. So I found it. In other people.”

Ryan scowled. “That is the fucking worst explanation for cheating that I have ever heard,” he snarled.

Brendon flinched from the heat in Ryan’s words. “What else was I supposed to do? Talking to you only made you more stressed out. I didn’t want to make things worse. I loved you.”

“And I love you,” Ryan snapped. “But I’m not using the past tense, Brendon. So what do you think that means?”

“It means we weren’t ready to be together back then,” Brendon answered softly.

“And what now?” Ryan demanded, growing angry again. He felt like a polygraph— going up and down erratically as more truth was brought to the surface. He was getting dizzy from the alcohol and emotions and he didn’t know how to feel any better, didn't know how to handle these tremors in his body. “What do you think I’ve done this whole time you’ve been with your wife?” he demanded, barreling forward like a tank through piles of corpses. Wet, bloody, and horrifyingly satisfying. “I’ve been alone. I’ve tried dating. I’ve tried to fall in love. But no one is good enough. No one can put up with my shit. No one wants my baggage no matter how much money I throw at them. 

“I’ve tried fucking everything to be loved,” Ryan continued, turning in his stool to face Brendon, jabbing his fingers into his own chest in his passion. “I’ve tried sex, money, drugs— I bought a fucking cat that ran away, then I got a dog, and now I’m thinking about getting plants. I left the country for nearly a month when I collapsed under the weight of my past. I help bands start their careers because I just want people to want me around. I can’t look in my mirror some days, can’t let myself touch alcohol or I’ll drink until I fucking die, Brendon. I can’t even smoke weed anymore because I’m such a fucking pushover who will do literally anything to receive affection that it’s no longer safe for me to be under the influence with anyone. Anyone, Brendon! I can’t even really trust Gabe! I-I do trust Gabe, though. Gabe’s a good guy and an amazing friend, b-but…”

Ryan ducked his head, again, starting to cry. “I-I’m so pathetic,” he choked out. “I’ve sold everything I am for love. And I still have no one. So I f-fucking went online, Brendon. I went to someone I can’t even see! That’s how pathetic I am. How broken. I stooped so low as to date someone online, and you know the worst part? Th-they’re not fucking real! I’ve been tricked! For almost a year, I-I’ve been dating this guy, but he’s been someone else! He’s been using me! Tricking me! I feel violated, Brendon!” Ryan was sobbing now. “I’m such a fucking m-mess,” he cried, hiccuping with the force of his sobs. “I’m not worth it. N-not worth anything. Fuck!”

“Ryan, don’t say that,” Brendon pleaded, sounding a little broken himself. He put both his hands on Ryan’s shoulders, holding him up, and honestly, Ryan appreciated and took comfort in the touch way more than he wished he did. He hated to be the addict. He hated that it only took Brendon a few words and then Ryan would be at his feet again, on his fucking knees, desperate for Brendon’s approval. It was just Brendon, too. He wasn’t like this for Pete. Or Spencer. If either of them showed up and said the same things Brendon had been, Ryan still would’ve snuffed them. He would’ve held off, expected a little more before he forgave them. But Brendon was special. He’d always been so fucking special. Especially to Ryan.

“Things have been hard for you,” Brendon started, sounding tentative. “I get that. I see it, okay? I know that it hasn’t entirely been your fault, either. People kinda suck, and you’ve always been sensitive.” Ryan hated that word. People loved to use it to describe him, and he knew that the word was a pretty accurate description. “You’ve gone to the wrong people, Ry, but I can’t really get on you about that because who else could you have turned to?”

“Dan’s pretty awesome,” Ryan sniffled. 

“Dan does seem kinda awesome,” Brendon agreed with a slow nod. “But you still had nearly no one after 2008. 2009. And I’m sorry about that. Ties weren’t severed, but we definitely weren’t very friendly. Neither you nor I. But you should try to get in contact with old friends, Ryan. Pete asks about you. So does Spencer, and fucking Jon, too. Nearly everyone has asked me about you since Halloween. They all want to know how you're doing.”

“And what do you tell them?” Ryan asked snidely, not caring how ugly the emotion looked on him. “That he’s become his father? That he’s a mess and trips over himself and dresses in the dumbest costumes? That he’s lost all of his sex appeal and is old and pathetic and in over his head? Is that what you fucking say?”

“God, what? Ryan, no! I’m not fucking like that.” Brendon sounded frustrated. “I just tell them that you looked good. You weren’t too skinny, which is what people ask about. Jesus, Ryan, Patrick spent good five minutes trying to make sure that I wasn’t lying to him when I said it looked like you were eating well. Multiple people asked if you were eating well. Do you get that? Not only were they worried that you were fucking starving yourself again, they had to be absolutely fucking certain when I said you weren’t. Your friends still care about you, Ryan. Stop fucking tricking yourself into thinking you’re alone. You were the one to burn that bridge, and you only burned half of it.”

“I didn’t fucking burn it on my own,” Ryan snapped. “You guys had the fucking gasoline. They all took your side. All of them felt sorry for you, saying that I was neglecting you. They trusted you and liked you way more than they ever liked me, more than they ever will like me..”

“They didn’t know about the girls I slept with,” Brendon said sadly. “They still don’t. But if they knew…”

“Don’t fucking bother,” Ryan huffed. “It can’t change the past eight years.”

Brendon hung his head, shoulders hunched up to his ears. “I really am sorry. I’ve been trying to make up for what I did to you. Just… not to you.”

“Did you cheat on Sarah?” Ryan asked.

“No.” Brendon shook his head. “I didn’t. I, I was talking to someone else. Someone that I was falling in love with again. I never did anything with them, but… I lost myself to this person. So I lost her. And I couldn’t make her stay in an empty relationship. I’m paying alimony. She took it so well, Ry. She understood. I told her everything, no fucking secrets, because that’s how we’ve always been. She’s upset, yeah, but she gets it. Begrudgingly. Upsettingly.” Brendon shook his head again and drank. “She deserves so much fucking better.”

“Who was it?” Ryan added. He kinda didn’t believe that Brendon didn’t cheat, especially if he’d fallen for someone else.

Brendon shook his head for the third time. “I won’t say.”

Ryan bristled with irrational anger. “What the fuck?” he spat. “You still won’t give me this? I’m fucking drunk, Brendon! I won’t remember!”   
“Yeah, you will,” Brendon sighed. “You always remember these nights.”

Brendon wasn’t wrong. God dammit.

“I can’t believe you’d do that to her.” Ryan waved for a drink, _again._ It was becoming an immediate reaction. He felt something he didn’t like, so he waved for a drink and prayed that it’d be the one that caused his death. But that was just drunk Ryan. 

“I can’t believe you’d date someone online,” Brendon shot back. It was a low blow, and Ryan felt like that was a little too much. He pushed himself out of his stool and turned to leave the bar after slapping every bill that was in his wallet down on the wood. It had to be enough. He’d had over three hundred dollars in there. Drunk Ryan knew that this was a good decision. And he hadn’t even littered!

Ryan stumbled out of the bar, the cool air hitting him like a sack of bricks, and he felt much more sober than he wanted to right now. Brendon was right behind him, calling out his name, but Ryan was ignoring him.

“I’m going home!” Ryan exclaimed backwards, not actually ignoring Brendon as well as he should be.

“At least don’t go alone!” Brendon pleaded, sounding desperate. “Get Dan! Or Gabe! They’re both in town! Don’t be alone when you’re this fucking drunk, Ryan, god, that’s basically suicide!”

“Fuck off!” Ryan shouted, whirling around and looking ready to hurt someone. Brendon stumbled back, eyes wide, and drunk Ryan received an inner sense of satisfaction, but sober Ryan just felt sick. “Fuck off,” he repeated, a little weaker. “I’m going home.” He turned around and kept his word. 

But his apartment was empty and his chest hurt. 

So he called someone who had been on his mind for the past twenty-four hours.

 _“Who is this?”_ Pete sounded the same as he always did at 3 AM, though Ryan wasn’t sure if Pete was in this time zone. At first, Ryan was hurt that Pete hadn’t kept his contact information, but then he remembered that he’d changed his number a while ago. 

“It, uh, it’s Ryan,” Ryan said dumbly. Now that he had Pete in his ear, he didn’t know what to say. “… Brendon said you’d been asking about me. So did Gabe. I just… thought I’d call.”

 _“You kept my number this long?”_ Ryan heard a smile in Pete’s voice and couldn’t help but mimic the gesture. _“I’m glad to hear from you.”_ There was a snuffle and a shuffle from over the speaker, and Ryan figured that he really had woken Pete up. _“Gabe told me stories and so did Brendon, and then there was that sabbatical you took from the internet, and just… Glad to hear your voice.”_

“I woke you,” Ryan said instead of commenting. “I’ll let you get some sleep. You’re probably exhausted.” He didn’t hang up.

 _“Just finished a show in Milwaukee, of all places.”_ Pete chuckled. _“Patrick was like fire onstage tonight. Beautiful.”_

“Your inability to confess to him is disheartening.”

 _“Shut up, Ry,”_ Pete laughed. 

Ryan bit his lip. “… Did you know I listen to Brendon’s music every day?” He hadn’t ever really confessed this to anyone. He kinda wanted to get it out in the open. “Golden Days is my favorite,” he continued, deciding that he was going to let drunk Ryan take the reigns and just say anything that came into his head. “It makes me wish I had stuck around. Fought past the things that happened. And now he’s divorced and I can’t… I still want him back. I’ve always wanted him back. Is that wrong?” Ryan stared up at the ceiling and played with the sheets under his hands. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up on his bed, but Dot was curled up against his side like a good girl, and he didn’t mind how comfortable he was. “I can’t have him back. I don’t really deserve it. And he doesn’t want me back. And it’s all just a mess.” He sighed raggedly. “God, everything is a fucking mess, Pete. I’m a mess. I need, like, a brace, like those back braces people have? But I need one for my brain. And emotions. I need a brace for my fucking feelings and thoughts, Pete, I need help.”

_“… Do you need me to send someone over?”_

Ryan cringed. “No, no, Pete, I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

 _“Have you been drinking?”_ Pete asked, sounding curious. _“You don’t really drink anymore. I mean, you have a beer and shit, but…”_

“Been stalking my Instagram, Pete?” Ryan asked, also curious.

 _“Maybe a little.”_ There was an audible smile, so drunk Ryan hadn’t offended him yet. That was nice. _“Really, though— would you like for me to send someone over? I know Gabe’s been with you a lot, lately. I can send him a text. He’ll be over in a jiffy.”_

“Brendon didn’t want me to be alone either…”

_“Brendon was there?”_

Ryan smiled sadly at how interested Pete sounded at that. “I’ve missed you, Pete,” he confessed, voice cracking. Drunk Ryan was really spilling the beans here. “I’m a stupid, prideful person who’s missed you so much, and I can’t even begin to think of where to start in fixing all of this. You’ll never forgive me. No one will.”

 _“You’re such a drama queen,”_ Pete said. _“I can’t believe people call Brendon the diva.”_

Ryan sniffled and wiped at his eyes. “Pete? What do I do?”

 _“Stop trying to fix things,”_ Pete responded, like the idea was simple. _“Just, just stop.That’s something I’ve learned. You can’t fix things because you can’t change the past. No one can. So you gotta start making a future that you can stomach. Like how we got Fall Out Boy back together. Just need to make a future where you’re happy.”_

“I don’t know if I can,” Ryan choked out.

 _“You can,”_ Pete said confidently. _“You’re strong.”_

“No, I’m not,” Ryan denied. “I, _I hate that._ The way the world views people who’ve quote, unquote, made it. We’re not strong just because we’ve made money. Kids these days seem to think that the second they achieve their dreams, they’ll be perfectly happy and content for the rest of their lives, but it’s not like that. Just because we’ve made money doesn’t mean we’re not still broken. Money and fame isn’t the therapy we need. We can’t live up to their standards, Pete, a-and we shouldn’t have to. You don’t have to be okay just because you’re selling out stadiums. And I’m not strong just because I was in a band that made it big.”

“… You always did know how to rock my world,” Pete murmured.

“Do you regret me?” Ryan asked in a tiny voice.

 _“No, Ry,”_ Pete denied. _“I don’t regret people. Especially not when they’re people like you.”_

Ryan let out a shaky breath and Dot sat up and started to lick Ryan’s hand. “I’m gonna go to bed, Pete,” he told the other man. “Sorry for waking you.”

_“Sleep tight, kiddo. Drink water.”_

Ryan hung up and stayed awake until he watched the sun rise.

. . .

Max and Nev knocked on Ryan’s door around lunchtime the next day, wearing expressions that were somberly hopeful.

“Paul contacted us this morning,” Nev said, smiling tentatively. “He would like to arrange a meet up. And since it’s of his own volition, the network is okay with it. We already traded contracts promising no legal backlash between either party.”

“What is he, the fucking pope?” Ryan asked, groggy and hungover.

“Not exactly,” Max said, also smiling, though his was a lot more knowing and kinda like a total asshole. 

Nev waited a second. “So are you up to it?”

“What other choice do I have?” Dot looked up at Ryan like she knew shit was about to go down. Ryan appreciated the concern, but he knew it was time to be an adult. “When and where?”

“His house,” Nev replied. “Right around now, actually. He said he wanted it over with.”

Ryan’s chest hurt at that statement, and he steeled his jaw. “What a coincidence— so do I.”

. . .

Ryan was familiar with every part of the Venice beach, so he knew the apartment complex Max and Nev and the driver pulled up to. It was a nice place, one of the complexes Ryan had considered when he first moved into this LA area, but ultimately vetoed. It was weird to think that Paul was so fucking close.

“Rarely do we ever have the other person live in the same city, let alone postal code.” Nev provided the information like it was something that Ryan should be impressed by. All Ryan could think of was how he’d probably passed Paul on the street at least once.

“You gonna be okay?” Max asked. He was apparently a lot more concerned for Ryan’s wellbeing than anyone else in the van. Ryan just nodded. 

They led him out of the car and into the complex, up the stairs to one of the more expensive suites. Ryan was tense and freaking out, because this could totally be the Pope. Absolutely be the Pope. If he was dating the Pope online, he would jump off a bridge. There was just no point in living if he had fallen for the fucking Pope.

“Is it the Pope?” he asked right before Nev knocked on the door to alert whoever Paul was to their presence. The camera was burning a hole in Ryan’s skin.

“It’s not the Pope,” Max snorted.

Nev knocked and the door swung open. 

Ryan saw Brendon, then he saw white, because no fucking way.

No fucking way.

No fucking way in fucking hell was Brendon fucking Urie fucking Paul.

“Hey, Ry,” Brendon greeted softly. “Glad to see you made it home last night.”

“What the fuck is this,” Ryan whispered, taking a hesitant step backwards, away from the door, away from Brendon. “Not you. You’re not him.”

“I wanted to be your friend again,” Brendon began to explain. “But I was too scared to show my face. And then…” Brendon shrugged helplessly. “… And then it just happened all over again. Everything from high school. From 2005. I fell in love with you again, with the you that wasn’t burdened with stress and death. You changed so much after your father died, I just… I missed you. And Paul got you back so…”

“So you tricked me,” Ryan finished for him. “Used me.”

“No,” Brendon denied, shaking his head. “I never used you. I could never do that.”

“But you did,” Ryan insisted tearfully, though only from the agony. He wasn’t sad. He wasn’t even that angry. He was just upset. Uselessly and uncontrollably upset, and there was no way around it. “I-I thought I was talking to someone else. Someone understanding. Ignorant, even! I thought they didn’t know of how awful of a person I am! I thought they were my second chance at finally finding something real and worth holding onto! But it wasn’t! It was you! It was fucking you, all along!” Ryan wiped at his eyes and hated that he was crying. “How could you do this to me?” Ryan hid behind his hair, shaking. “You, y-you said you loved me.”

Brendon looked absolutely wrecked. 

Ryan was about to leave when Brendon opened the door wider. A dog darted out, a little terrier, and Ryan’s heart melted, because dogs always made him feel so much fucking better. People were hard. They hated him easily. But dogs were drawn to him like he was actually a person worth loving, and that meant a lot to him. The dog darted to Ryan’s legs, and Ryan recognized the dog as Bogart. He went down on his knees, deciding he was going to ignore every single fucking person around him right now and just let this dog help him feel better.

“He likes you,” Brendon said softly. “I knew he would.”

Bogart climbed into Ryan’s lap, climbing up his chest and licking all over his face, and Ryan only really felt at peace when he had a dog in his lap, or Paul’s words in his head. Brendon’s words. Brendon’s words in his head. Ryan only felt at peace with a dog in his lap, or Brendon’s words in his head.

God, it was Brendon.

“He’s a good dog,” Brendon said, sitting down in front of Ryan. “Well trained and stuff. He loves people, but he loves a few people more than others. I think you’re one of those people.”

Ryan hugged Bogart’s torso and tried not to let Brendon’s words mean anything to him.

“Are you both good to maybe sit down and talk for a bit?” Nev asked. Ryan remembered the cameras and the audience and felt sick. He suddenly wished that Brendon had insisted on them never meeting. Not like this, at least. Now the world would find out about the Ryan-Brendon incident through fucking MTV, jesus. That was probably the worst way possible to find out. And no way was MTV going to go about the situation delicately. They’d probably pull out billboards or something equally ridiculous. 

“Yeah, I am,” Brendon said. “Ry?”

Ryan nodded and stood, lifting Bogart with him. He dared not look around the apartment, scared that he’d know more about Brendon according to the scenery. He didn’t want to become a part of Brendon’s life again like this. He wished they were alone. He wished the cameras were gone. He also kinda wished that drunk Ryan was back. That Ryan was much better at expressing emotion.

Brendon gestured for everyone to take a seat wherever, and Ryan quickly chose the armchair, because that meant that no one would be able to sit next to him. He kept Bogart in his lap, though, and the dog seemed happy enough with that.

“So, why’d you do it?” Nev asked Brendon. “You obviously know Ryan. Why’d you go through a false identity?”

“Because Ryan’s reached out to me before, and I’ve always ignored it or turned my back,” Brendon explained, looking remorsefully to Ryan, literally apologizing with his eyes. “I felt like it would be a blow to my pride if I went to him, straight forward and straight faced. I couldn’t stomach it. So I created the identity and talked to him that way. Really got to know him again. Really got to see him as Ryan again, and not just the Ryan that I’d last seen.” Brendon smiled a bit. “He seemed… good. Seemed better. I just wanted to be with him again.”

Ryan choked on something, maybe a word or a laugh, but it brought the attention to him. He instantly hunched up and tried to hide, but it was useless.

“And you, Ryan?” Nev queried gently. “This is an odd situation for the show, as usually the two people have never heard of each other, let alone met. Usually, we have to see if the people will continue to talk, or if they want to leave it well enough alone. Since you know Brendon, and you’re sort of included in his circle, according to him, will you continue this relationship?” When Ryan didn’t immediately answer, Nev added, “You don’t have to make this decision now. You can think about it for a while.”

Ryan looked to Brendon and found himself captured by the hopeful gaze Brendon as sending him.

“… I don’t want to stop talking to him,” Ryan admitted like the words were dragged from his lungs. He’d known from the second he saw Brendon in the doorway that he wasn’t going to cut ties. Brendon was Paul. Paul was Brendon. That was honestly a better scenario than he’d ever considered, because he’d never had the guts to think that it would ever even be Brendon. Almost serendipitous. He was angry, of course he was angry, but Brendon apparently wanted him, and…

“Did you divorce Sarah because of me?” Ryan asked, deciding to completely ignore the cameras and take a page from drunk Ryan’s book.

Brendon hesitated. “… I divorced her because I couldn’t continue to hurt her like I had been with my lies. I was in love with you again. Probably never fell out of love. I felt neglected back then, but I never stopped wanting you around. I pushed it aside and tried to pretend to move on. I did move on. Sarah was the love of my life for a while. She was perfect for me, and I will always, always appreciate what she’s done for me and how she’s loved me, but… chapters end.”

“That’s cold,” Ryan interrupted.

“I know it is,” Brendon agreed. “Life is cold and I am cold. Or at least, I can be cold. Crass. I make some decisions that hurt people. But I only make these decisions to avoid hurting anyone else. I weigh the numbers. Try to keep people from hurting.”

“Who were you saving by leaving her?” Nev asked.

“Ryan,” Brendon replied. “And, uh…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Ryan. That’s it. The world looks down on falling in love when you’re with someone else. It sucks. Even once you do the morally right thing and break it off, they still condemn you. There’s no way to be right in this situation. So I just went with what was easier to sleep with at night. And easier to stomach.” He nodded to Ryan. “And that would be this man.”

Ryan’s breath caught and he wished he wasn’t such a pushover for Brendon. Brendon must’ve heard the hitch, because he locked eyes with Ryan and refused to let Ryan breathe right again. Tunnel vision enveloped Ryan’s sight, and all he could process was the warm depth of Brendon’s gaze and the soft rise and fall of Brendon’s chest as he breathed. He was beautiful. 

“Do you both intend to pursue a relationship?” Nev asked almost cautiously, like he didn’t want to break whatever spell was dancing through the room like oxygen. 

Ryan bit his lip and couldn’t answer. The anger was gone. He wasn’t upset anymore. All he could think about was how Brendon had changed the course of his life just for him. 

“I… I would like to,” Ryan said, knowing Brendon wouldn’t be the one to say it first. Not with how fragile the air was.

Brendon smiled. “Yeah. Okay.”

Ryan held Bogart tighter and matched Brendon’s timid smile.

They could make this work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com)


	3. Turn to Side B and Begin Anew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> y'all saw this coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loveliest beta: cemeterydrivethru
> 
> a huge thank you to everyone who read this~ it was a lot of fun and definitely a nice reprieve in being able to write something a little shorter. i had a blast and i hope you lot enjoyed this :)

Ryan left with Max and Nev simply because the two men insisted and wanted to make sure Ryan was emotionally sound. Now that the ordeal was over and the shock and awe was dying, Ryan appreciated it. Being away from Brendon gave him a moment to get his head on straight. Clear his line of sight. Tunnel vision was never good for foresight, nor hindsight, so the sudden clarity left Ryan’s chest lighter and relaxed. He nodded his gratitude to Max and Nev, then accepted their offer for lunch— no cameras. 

“Never seen anything like this happen,” Max said, twirling his spaghetti around his knife like some kind of wizard. Who even ate spaghetti with a knife? “We’ve been doing this for a couple years, you know, but I’ve never seen a pair like you two. You’re like soulmates. Put together, drawn apart, then sewn back together again. It’s amazing.”  “Are you really okay with being with him?” Nev pressed. “I know that was rather heat of the moment, so you can totally change your mind now.”

“I don’t want to,” Ryan responded truthfully. “It was… sudden. It really was. But… I’ve never really been able to fall out of love with Brendon. He’s all I’ve ever really wanted. Does that make sense? Or does that just make me a bad person?” He ducked his head. “I’ve needed him, but I’ve never admitted it. Dated to try and avoid this. I just didn’t want to admit that I couldn’t picture a life beyond him. It was pathetic. I was pathetic. And the world’s gonna know that, but… I really don’t care.” He smiled to himself. “He wants me back. It’s gonna be difficult, but the fact that he does want me is good enough.”

Nev nodded and Max looked pretty pleased. It must be nice for them to get some sort of good news from this show. There wasn’t a lot of good news in most of the world, as far as Ryan knew.

“I’m gonna let him handle this,” Ryan said. “I’m not gonna jump into anything. I’m not gonna force any sort of action. He… I-I want this to be him. Because god knows that it could be all me if I took the reigns. I don’t want to force myself on him. It’ll only make it easier to blame myself if this doesn’t work again.”

“You can’t head into this with lowered standards,” Nev advised. “If you do, you’ll let him get away with anything.”

Ryan shrugged. “He was right. I was an asshole back then. Everything was going wrong and I didn’t handle it well. I could’ve been a lot better. He deserved a lot better. But at the same time, he did things that are kinda awful. I just wish we could’ve talked to each other. I wish I could’ve talked to him. And by the time I was ready to, i-it was too late. He felt too closed off from me. He didn’t want to hear it. I’d already lost him. Now I’m getting the second chance that I’ve always wanted, so I’m going to let it be by his rules, since my rules didn’t work last time.”

“I wish you two the best of luck,” Max said. “We’ll check back in on you guys in a few weeks. Is that okay?”

Ryan nodded. “Thank you for this,” he said. “I hope it won’t offend you, but I probably won’t be watching the episode when it comes out. Probably won’t even leave my house for a few months. Deactivate Twitter and Instagram and Facebook.” Ryan smiled a bit to himself. “Doesn’t sound that bad, actually. Sometimes that online stuff could be a pain.”

Max actually laughed at that, and Ryan felt this little swell of something in his chest that made him smile wider.

“Good luck, Mr. Ross,” Nev said, reaching out to shake Ryan’s hand.

. . .

Ryan’s expression lit up as his phone did the same, Brendon’s name flashing across the screen. He sat up from the floor too quickly, disrupting poor Dot from her spot curled against his thigh. He pat her head to apologize and answered.

“Hey,” he breathed, not caring if he sound rather needy. He hadn’t Brendon’s voice since the meet up. This was going to be the preliminary official something, a moment for them to test the waters in a new relationship. Ryan was shaking as he waited for Brendon to respond, even though he’d only been waiting less than an eighth of a second or something. 

_“Hey, Ry,”_ Brendon responded, voice floating through Ryan’s eardrums like music. _“I have a plan for our date. I’m gonna come to your place and you’re gonna walk me through an average day in the life of Ryan Ross.”_

“What?” Ryan blinked slowly in confusion. “Why would you want that?”

 _“Because I’ve missed a lot,”_ Brendon explained with a soft fondness. _“And I want to catch up. I wanna see how my better half lives and I wanna get to know this you. I know we’ve talked about what you’ve done during your day, but I have a feeling you left out the mundane things. Like how I never knew that you put your fucking toilet paper on the roll the wrong way until we toured. There’s shit you don’t tell people, Ryan. We can only learn through observation.”_

“I’m surprised you’d care enough to know,” Ryan murmured, trying his best to not sound accusatory. He was just curious as to why Brendon wanted to know these things at all.

 _“I want to know you again like I used to know you,”_ Brendon told him. _“Back when I could meet your eyes and know what you are thinking. Back when I could hear everything in your voice and know how to respond. We lost that somewhere along the way. I want it back, Ryan. I want you again. In every way.”_

Ryan blushed and couldn’t help thinking of how Gabe had asked about them having virtual sex. He’d asked Brendon about that later.

“Come over,” he requested instead.

_“Be there in ten minutes, baby.”_

Ryan hung up quickly before he said something about the nickname that would effectively humiliate himself enough to fill his embarrassment quota for the day.

. . .

Brendon arrived at Ryan’s doorstep with his hair all out of whack and dressed in comfortable clothes and shoes while still managing to look absolutely confident and attractive. Ryan was jealous. He felt underdressed in his black shirt, black button up, and black jeans that hadn’t been washed in weeks. He should probably get in the habit of doing his laundry again. He definitely had someone to impress now.

“So what’s the plan for today, Mr. Ross?” Brendon asked, voice lilting over the airwaves like some analogy that Ryan couldn’t think of. Ryan smiled breathlessly. 

“I was just gonna take you through my day, right?” he asked, wanting to make sure. Brendon nodded, grinning and looking like he was eager to go through this ordeal with Ryan. Ryan couldn’t imagine Brendon actually being excited to go through something as weird and boring as Ryan’s day. But hey, Ryan wasn’t going to second guess Brendon at every turn. That was one problem he’d used to have. 

“Okay, well, usually I’ll wake up with a headache or something,” he said. “I used to drink a lot. Before Greece, really.” He wasn’t sure if Brendon knew the significance of that trip, but he’d refer to it anyways. “I had this sandwich place I’d buy from. They knew me pretty well, knew me by name. Wanna go there?”

“I wanna do whatever you think will let me get to know you again,” Brendon told him, sounding sincere. Ryan became hypnotized by those brown eyes and didn’t speak for far too long. It reminded him of the time he’d gotten really high Brendon and had spent a good ten minutes just holding Brendon’s cock in his hands and mouth and questioning how he’d gone his whole existence without ever having that in his mouth before.

“Ry?” 

Ryan blinked heavily and nodded slowly.

Brendon grinned and took Ryan’s hand, pulling him out of the apartment.

. . .

“After that sandwich, I’d probably go find out what Dan was doing,” Ryan said as he ate his hoagie and watched Brendon eat his own. Brendon seemed to really be enjoying the food, letting out soft grunts of pleasure when he got a bit too much in his mouth and had to actually pull away to chew. Brendon had always eaten like he was scared he would run out of time and his food would be taken away. Ryan kinda fucking loved it. It was nice to see again, even if it was kinda gross sometimes. Brendon had such a big mouth that he sometimes had issues keeping all of the food inside.

“Waff’ would ‘oo an’ Dan do?” Brendon asked, gradually swallowing his mouthful. Ryan smiled a bit at the goofiness.

“We’d see what was happening in town,” Ryan said. “Sometimes we’d check out Amoeba for new tunes. Maybe he’d take me to the strip mall and try and convince me to wear new clothes since I tend not to wash the ones I have. We’d go to the beach or go to his place or mine and jam. We’d go to the park, get dinner, just… do whatever seemed fun. Relaxing.”

“Relaxing?” Brendon wiped some ham grease from his mouth with the back of his hand.

Ryan shrugged. “He takes it easy on me, mostly. After Helena and stuff. Plus, he can be really fucking lazy. We don’t go to clubs as often anymore. We go to festivals and concerts, but nothing huge. It’s nice.”

“You don’t ever just throw a toke to relax?” Brendon snorted and grinned around his sandwich. “Seems like a waste, Ry. There are easier ways to relax.”

“I don’t like being inebriated,” Ryan admitted. “I kinda like being aware of myself and what I’m doing and shit.”

Brendon chuckled. “Ry baby has grown up.”

Ryan blushed and smiled, then shrugged, “Nearly thirty. Guess you’re gonna be dating an older man. Does that make you a gold digger or a trophy wife?”

“Oh my god, both,” Brendon said eagerly. “I need to get a perm and tighter dresses. I can already rock a pair of heels.”

“I know,” Ryan affirmed thoughtlessly.

Brendon paused. “… You do? Pretty sure I never wore heels back then…”

“I, uh, saw the video,” Ryan extrapolated, still blushing, and now for a very good reason. Brendon smirked devilishly, so Ryan was relieved to see that Brendon didn’t think he was weird. He wasn’t sure how Brendon would react to knowing that Ryan still listened to all of Brendon’s new music, bought all the albums, even watched the music videos and interviews when he could. It hadn’t ever been Ryan inflicting pain on himself; he’d just missed Brendon and Spencer and liked seeing how well they were doing. 

“Fuck yeah you saw the video,” Brendon said haughtily, winking at Ryan slyly. “Did I look good?”

“Damn good,” Ryan laughed.

Brendon looked pretty fucking proud of himself. Ryan was just happy he still knew how to make Brendon feel good about himself.

. . .

“Should we try and see Dan?” Brendon asked as he ducked between pier pillars, searching the sand with his flashlight for condoms, new or used. “He’s your best friend— as your new boyfriend, I feel obligated to know him and receive the usual threats from him cornering your dignity and virginity.”

Ryan snorted and kicked at an empty soda bottle. “Dan doesn’t like you.”

“I figured.” Brendon bent over, then let out a noise if disappointment. “Just some plastic wrap, fuck.” He went back to searching. “I’m gonna guess that your friends think I’m the worst person ever.”

“Only because they’ve seen the aftermath,” Ryan told him, trying to alleviate the guilt Brendon could (maybe) be feeling. “I stopped ragging on you a year or two after the real split.”

“Oh, wow.” Brendon looked impressed. “I kinda didn’t stop for longer.”

“You were pretty hurt by things neither of us said.” Ryan shrugged as he decided to aid Brendon in his search. “I don’t blame you.” He paused, thinking. “… I think that you and I should just decide to forgive each other for everything after 2008, right now. Yeah? We just need to get that out of the way. Start from a clean slate.”

Brendon smiled softy. “I’d like that,” he told Ryan, reaching out to hold Ryan’s mostly clean hands with his extremely dirty ones. Ryan thought the gesture was sweet, but god, Brendon’s hands were so slimy. Ryan made a face and fought to get his hand from Brendon’s grip, but Brendon held on tight with a leer. “I have you now!” Brendon cackled, absolutely refusing to let go. “I shall always win! You are mine forever, Ross! Mine!”

Ryan snorted and stopped trying. “If you’re that desperate hold my hand, you could always ask.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Brendon shot back snootily. 

Ryan just kept looking for Brendon’s desired condoms with one hand.

. . .

“Arguably nice to finally meet you, Brendon,” Dan said as he shook Brendon’s hand. Ryan had thoroughly threatened Dan into not being an ass, and he was grateful that Dan was smiling as politely as a Catholic priest. Throwing in the word “arguably” had made Ryan narrow his eyes warningly, but Dan was unperturbed. “Ryan said you wanted to meet me? Which is a pretty tall order. Usually, I’m swimming through babes and danes right now. I could just barely make time in my schedule for whoever this Brendon Urie is.”

“Dan, jesus,” Ryan groaned. “You’re going overboard now.” Maybe he had been perturbed. “Look, just— Brendon and I are in agreement. We’re wiping the slate clean. No grudges, no expectations created by memories, no being an asshole because we did something in the past. We’re done with that shit. It’s over.”

Dan snorted. “Yeah, sure— and I’m supposed to just be over the Greece thing? And the eating? Maybe even just pretend that you didn’t buy a fucking dog so you’d have some sort of responsibility that would keep you tied to this fucking earth?

Brendon frowned and looked to Ryan for answers. Ryan refused to meet Brendon’s eyes for more than a split second of a glance.

“Yes,” Ryan told Dan, as firmly as he could. “I do expect you to be over all of that. Because I’m over it already. And I want this to work, so I want you to be at least sociable with each other. I’m not gonna choose between you both, so you’d better just settle and start to get along now.”

Dan made a face that reminded Ryan of a child that didn’t want to eat his vegetables. He met Dan’s expression with his own look of stern disapproval. 

“I mean it,” Ryan reiterated. “I know that was hard. But it was hard because of my own faults and mistakes. Okay? Brendon isn’t to blame. He didn’t even do anything. He didn’t do anything for years.”

“That’s the fucking problem,” Dan said.

“Stop,” Ryan ordered.

“I never meant to hurt Ryan,” Brendon told Dan. “I’ve got my run of apologies to make.”

“And I have my own,” Ryan added.

“Ry and I are gonna do our best to fix things that we think need fixing,” Brendon said, talking along Ryan, making them the perfect team for getting Dan to shut his fucking pie hole. “We’ve forgiven each other for what happened. Doesn’t mean the pain’s gone, doesn’t mean we don’t regret things we said and did, but it’s still forgiven. Forgiven doesn’t mean forgotten. But t does mean we’re willing to work past what happened and be happy with each other.”

Dan didn’t look very comforted by Brendon’s short speech. But he didn’t say anything else. 

“Let’s get ice cream,” Ryan suggested, wanting to break this stalemate and actually enjoy his time with these two important people. “We can go to Coldstone and tip them so much that they’ll owe us their lives. And then Dan can sing along with them and do the dance because that’s what he does.” He looked to Dan. “That’s what you do, yeah? We can show Brendon how amazing of a dancer you are.”

Dan’s expression became even more petulant. “… I am a pretty fucking good dancer.”

“You so are,” Ryan agreed, nodding. “And we gotta prove it. Because Brendon thinks he’s the best, so we have to show him what’s what. We have to show him the amazing moves of Dan fucking Keyes, yeah?”

“Why do we always use fucking as an adjective between first and last names?” Dan asked suddenly. 

Ryan didn’t have an answer for him. Brendon just laughed. “I wanna get shown up by Dan mother fucking Keyes,” he said. “And I could really use some ice cream. I could use some sweet, sugary, cold goodness. And I’m really looking forward to cleaning Ryan’s lips of that ice cream, because he can be really messy when he’s into it.” Brendon looked slyly to Ryan, not even bothering to hide that he meant his statement to be as lewd as it sounded.

Dan laughed like an asshole. “And Ryan’s a tomato! That’s my favorite pass time. He gets so fucking annoyed when you tease him.”

“I’m gonna castrate you,” Ryan told Dan bluntly.

“But not Brendon?” Dan pouted. “How’s that fair?”

“I still need Brendon to have his dick,” Ryan replied meaningfully. He knew that by flirting back, he’d let Brendon know he was just as serious as Brendon was about every aspect of the relationship. Brendon looked a little excited.

“Oh, gross,” Dan chuckled. “Let’s just fucking go.”

. . .

“And what do you do at the end of the day?” Brendon asked Ryan as they returned to Ryan’s apartment around eleven at night. Ryan shut the door softly behind Brendon. He wasn’t sure if Brendon was going to go home or not, but that was Brendon’s decision. He just wanted to come the door to show Brendon he was welcome to stay.

Ryan shrugged. “Take a shower if I feel like it. Take Dot on a walk, then go to bed. I used to stay up talking to you, but…” He shrugged again. “Guess that’s not an option.”

Brendon hesitated. “Would you rather I be Paul?”

Ryan shook his head immediately. “I prefer you. In the flesh. Telling the truth.”

Brendon smiled a little. “That’s sweet. And I fully intend on being mostly truthful with you from here on out.”

“Mostly?” Ryan echoed with a frown.

“How else am I supposed to keep surprise parties a surprise?”

Ryan stared at Brendon, trying to gauge if he was being serious or not. Brendon eventually sent him a cheeky grin and a wink. Ryan scrunched his nose up in offense and shoved Brendon’s shoulder. “Don’t be a dick.” He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Wanna eat something?” he asked. “Or drink?” Their dinner had been pizza with Dan at Oregano’s after ice cream and going on a hike. Dan had been taking things especially easy on Ryan. He’d chosen one of the easiest trails he knew of, probably being sensible to Ryan’s nerves, even though there was no reason for that. Ryan actually felt very at ease with Brendon at his side. He wasn’t as worried about keeping up appearances as he thought he’d be. Brendon was being legitimate and easy-going with Ryan, so Ryan just naturally fell into the same rhythm. They fit together naturally; always had.

“I think I’m good,” Brendon told him, visibly thinking as he watched Ryan. Ryan met his eyes and waited for Brendon to voice whatever was on his mind, but Brendon didn’t say anything. Instead, he coughed a bit awkwardly and went to pet Dot. “She’s a good dog,” he told Ryan. “Floppy. Kinda droopy. I really like her. She’d be really good for Bogart— really help mellow him out.”

“She can be playful.” Ryan grabbed one of Dot’s chew toys and went to her bed, offering the toy. Dot regarded the toy cooly, then turned her head away with a lethargic blink. Ryan was offended on behalf of the toy, and Brendon laughed.

“She’s such a prissy diva,” Brendon giggled. “Just like you. Dopey and lovable and stuck up as hell.”

“Shut up,” Ryan chuckled, offering another toy, which Dot also rejected with the air of a princess. “Okay, well, she can be playful whenever she wants to be, but I guess that’s not now. Sometimes she plays catch. She really likes to howl whenever I’m singing like an idiot. I’ll bet she’ll love singing along with you. Do you still sing when you first wake up?” He remembered how Brendon would actually wake up with a note in his throat, the sound coming out scratchy and raw and morphing into an early morning yawn that Ryan would be tempted to kiss from his mouth. 

Ryan tore himself from the memories to notice that Brendon was watching him again.

“You remember that about me?” Brendon asked reverently, like he didn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I remember a lot,” Ryan sighed. “It was kinda agonizing, actually. Especially at first. To wake up and have my pillow still under my head, still have all the blankets. To have all the dishes put into the dishwasher, to have clothes on the floor and not have you getting on my ass about putting them away.” He shrugged. “I kinda sucked at being an adult without you, at first. It was really harrowing. I was exhausted to the bone pretty quickly with all the time I spent trying to forget. I manage now, but sometimes I’d wake up and remember the way you’d climb into bed while still soaking wet from a shower and you wouldn’t care about saturating the sheets.”

“You’d get so pissed off,” Brendon reminisced. 

“Because you refused to do the laundry,” Ryan reminded him.

“Do you think we can be like that again?” Brendon asked. Ryan glanced to Brendon and saw that his eyes were wide and shuttered at the same time. Ryan still couldn’t read Brendon as well as he used to be able to, but he could tell that Brendon was somewhere along the lines of nervously optimistic, probably wondering if Ryan wanted the same thing from their new relationship as him. Ryan smiled softly. 

“I know we can,” he said, putting in enough confidence to sound sincere. “I mean, we broke up. Jarringly. The worst part is over, right? It’s behind us. It can’t possibly get any worse than it was for us before.”

Brendon worried his lower lip between his teeth. “… What happened with in Greece, Ryan?”

“… Pete didn’t tell you?”

“I didn’t even know that Pete knew,” Brendon replied. “How does he know?”

“Because Gabe told him while he was drunk,” Ryan exhaled, feeling weary again. “I don’t know if now’s a good time for that story.”

“But I’m worried. It’s been brought up a few times, and never in good context. Dan sounded pretty freaked about it. Wasn’t that nearly a year ago? Maybe more? Why is it so important? Why does it make your friends so freaked out? I just, I want to know what happened. I want to know both sides of you. The good and the bad. I know you already know a lot about the bad shit that happened to me because people on the internet don’t often shut up and tend to stick their noses into things that aren’t their business. I would offer to share a tale of my own, but I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be anything new to you.”

“I just don’t want to ruin this night with sad stories,” Ryan admitted. “It isn’t fun. I don’t remember much, and it was actually what happened that prompted me to go to Greece, but it still isn’t a nice story. You’d be better off not ever knowing.”

“Then I’d be missing a crucial aspect of what made you who you are today,” Brendon countered, looking at Dot, and only Dot. Ryan could understand wanting to ignore the existence of a problem by not looking at it. Ryan was the fucking king at avoiding his problems; he could definitely give Brendon some tips. “Why can’t you just tell me, Ryan?”

Ryan didn’t answer at first. “… Maybe another time.”

Brendon nodded and stood from his crouch. “Okay, well— I’ll go home.”

Ryan’s face fell. “So soon?”

“… You don’t want me to?”

Ryan faltered, then shook his head, going for gold. Honesty was his new policy with Brendon. If they wanted this to work, they both had to put up the same effort. “I’d like for you to stay,” he told Brendon sincerely. “I’d like to maybe have you spend the night.” When Brendon’s expression became incredulous, Ryan had to quickly correct himself. “We’re not ready for sex. Nowhere close to. But you’re fun to be around. As fun as I remember you being. We can’t just pretend we don’t already know really intimate details about each other. I know who you lost your virginity to and I know who gave you your first hard on. I know why you think vaginas are actually really weird and I know why you prefer boxers over briefs.”

“That’s one of my favorite stories,” Brendon butt in with a fond smile. 

“We can’t pretend we don’t already know each other better than we know most of our friends,” Ryan told him. “Better than most of our friends know us. I’m not gonna pretend I don’t know all of those things about you.”

“And I’m not gonna pretend I don’t know what you sound like when I’m fucking your brains out,” Brendon hummed, looking arrogant. Ryan fought to roll his eyes. He knew the reason behind Brendon’s lack of dick pics on the internet, especially since he was such a prideful person beyond the screen. 

“Just stay the night?” Ryan beseeched. “I’ll take the couch too. You can have the bed. It’s really nice. The fucking mattress is the most expensive thing in this apartment.”

“Because you get laid so much?” Brendon asked, apparently still a cheeky asshole.

“Because whenever I do sleep, I the quality to be adequate,” Ryan replied, letting himself roll his eyes anyways. “It’s a good one. Memory foam and soft and fucking great. I’ve got this bamboo pillow that stays cool. Do you have any idea how amazing it is? No, you don’t, but you’ve gotta fucking try it.” He nodded to the room. “You take the bed. Dot will try to jump up there and sleep with you, but she’s gonna need little help getting up because she isn’t tall enough.”

“That sounds fucking adorable,” Brendon told Ryan. “But I would much rather have you in there with me.”

Ryan sighed. “I told you—”

“I never said we’d be giving the mattress a run for its money,” Brendon interrupted. “Just think that your bed is probably a little too big for just one person. I think it’s about time it was used to its potential, unromantically. You’ve probably been pretty cold in there. I remember how easily you’d get cold. It’s the long limbs and lack of fat. Let me keep you warm tonight, Ryan. No sex. No expectations. Just some awesome cuddling that I think we’ve both earned.”

Ryan smiled a bit hesitantly. “Are you sure? Clothes on and everything?”

“God, you’re so vanilla when you’re trying to be responsible,” Brendon chuckled. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”

Ryan snapped his head to Brendon in alarm, absolutely shocked to hear that word from Brendon’s lips so quickly. It had taken Ryan almost a year of being with Brendon sexually to say he loved Brendon because Ryan was emotionally constipated and didn’t even know how to hug Spencer without his hands getting sweaty. He was bad at this sort of thing and Brendon knew that, so he had no explanation as for why Brendon was bringing out the big guns so fucking early on. 

“Did you mean that?” Ryan had to ask, because Brendon still wasn’t cutting Ryan any slack with his blatant statements that left Ryan more confused than any riddle ever had. He didn’t know how to make heads or tails of what Brendon was saying to him even though Brendon was being more straight to him than an iron arrow. Did that mean Brendon loved him? Was in love with him? Maybe he just wanted to throw Ryan off or maybe he really did want this out in the open. Maybe Brendon was a lot more serious than Ryan remembered. Maybe Brendon was crazy.

Maybe Ryan was crazy.

“Got any spare sweatpants I can wear for the night?” Brendon asked Ryan. “I don’t fancy sleeping in skinny jeans when I’m not on tour.”

Ryan nodded and hustled to his room, intending on distracting himself from what Brendon had said. “When do you go back on tour?” he asked, wanting to initiate some sort of conversation. He also kinda wanted to know if he’d be back to messaging Brendon again. He’d probably have to change the contact on his phone if Brendon wanted to continue to use the Twitter handle he’d used for Paul. 

“Got about a week,” Brendon sighed. “Pete wanted me to have a break with the divorce, but I’d rather get the show on the road, if you feel me.”

Ryan nodded. He could understand that. He tossed Brendon a pair of pajama pants that probably weren’t his because his hips were narrower than that by far, and Brendon immediately started to strip in front of him. Out of everything that had happened, that weirded Ryan out the least. Brendon had always been pretty confident in his body, even back when he was soft and baby faced and his sides jiggled when he walked. This Brendon, though— he had a lot to be proud of. His thighs were strong and smooth like his stomach and chest and shoulders and arms and fucking everywhere. Ryan was shameless in his staring, though it wasn’t exactly new. He’d watched Girls/Girls/Boys more times than he wanted to admit.

Brendon jumped onto the bed once in the sweatpants and wiggled around, groaning and sighing contentedly. “God, wow, you were right— this is nice. This is so nice.”

Ryan grinned. “I like it a lot. Worth every penny.”

Brendon smiled up at him like the sun. “Ready for bed?”

Ryan just nodded and climbed in.

. . .

It was hard to figure out why Gabe was suddenly at his doorstep with a god damn fruit basket and Pete on Facetime, at eight in the morning, when Brendon was still asleep in Ryan’s bed and Dot was too lazy to even alert Ryan to the intruders. Ryan had opened the door in his boxers because he’d been halfway to a shower, only to be interrupted. He didn’t appreciate being torn from his shower, and he especially didn’t appreciate being caught with no pants.

“Gabe?” Ryan asked drowsily. “What’s wrong?” He blinked slowly at the fruit basket. “Did someone get married?”

 _“Where’re your pants, Ryan?”_ Pete asked, laughing at him. Ryan flipped off the phone, but kept his eyes on Gabe and the fruit. He hadn’t called or sent an SOS or anything. The episode hadn’t been aired, and Brendon hadn’t been on his phone at all yesterday (which was honestly one of the most weird and kind gestures Ryan had ever been shown in the 21st century). He couldn’t understand why Gabe was here and why he felt the need to congratulate Ryan. Ryan was pretty sure he hadn’t even told Gabe it was Brendon all along.

“What’s happening, Gabe?” Ryan asked softly.

“Brendon told Pete that he was going to tell you it was him all along,” Gabe explained, talking much slower than usual since he knew that Ryan wasn’t at one hundred percent cognitive functioning quite yet. “Pete told me because he wanted to make sure that you’d be okay. I’m not sure how long he knew what was happening with Paul.”

 _“For a few months,”_ Pete cut in, nodding. Ryan wanted to be mad at first, but at the same time, it made sense that Pete would side with Brendon and keep his secret. 

“We just wanted to make sure everything was fine and dandy in the life of Mr. Ross,” Gabe said. 

“Is that Gabe?”

Ryan didn’t want to turn around, because Pete and Gabe’s expression both spoke loudly enough. He prayed to god that Brendon was still wearing the sweatpants from earlier. They couldn’t have fallen off. Brendon’s hips were too wide and Ryan’s pants were too small for that to happen. Still, Pete looked like he’d walked in on something scandalous and unexpected, and Gabe looked like he was five seconds from breaking down into peals of laughter.

“Please tell me he’s not naked,” Ryan whispered, his face void of all expression. His hopes weren’t high.

 _“Did you two have sex?”_ Pete demanded, sounding like a worried mother. Ryan had always thought Pete was nurturing when he had his wits enough about him. _“Isn’t that really quick? Shouldn’t you two be more careful? Don’t move too fast! You don’t wanna ruin this again!”_

“Awh, you’re so cute when you worry, Mom,” Brendon snorted, appearing at Ryan’s side. He was blessedly dressed, but only in his boxers. Ryan shut his eyes and tried to cope. He didn’t know how he was supposed to get out of this without getting an earful from anyone. And he’d slept so well last night, too. “Don’t worry, Pete— Ryan didn’t wreck my honor. All we did was share a bed. I’m too much of a diva to take the couch, but too much of a gentleman to make Ryan take the couch. We cuddled. Maybe spooned. But we had a chaperone— Dot was watching me the whole night. No way could I put the moves on him.”

Ryan scoffed and shook his head. Brendon put an arm possessively around Ryan’s waist. Ryan’s heart stopped for a moment, then restarted twice as fast as he felt like it normally did. But Brendon’s hand was warm and large on his hip, and there was only skin between them since they were both in boxers.

“Wanna come in, Gabe?” Ryan offered. He stepped aside, in the direction of Brendon, pressed his back to Brendon’s chest to make room for Gabe to come inside. And it felt right.

. . .

They had dated for a month when Max and Nev called back.

 _“How’s it going, guys?”_ Max asked as he filmed the screen. Ryan was sure that the footage would look weird and redundant. Why didn’t they just record the video conference and paste in it the final footage? Ryan wasn’t sure if the aesthetic was worth it.

“Going awesome!” Brendon replied, sitting on the bed with Ryan, their thighs and shoulders pressed together tellingly. Brendon had flown back from tour for this video conference. He had a flight the next morning. “Ryan and I just made out for, like, three hours once I got home. He’s pretty clingy when he’s been lonely. It’s adorable and totally because I’m sexy and awesome.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, but still smiled. Brendon had become goofier the more comfortable he became with Ryan. It was like a lake slowly bleeding out with the decay of a dam. Like Brendon was truly becoming himself again. Ryan was addicted to it, especially the little things that he learned had changed. Brendon actually enjoyed certain foods now that he never had before. His addiction to Redbull and other energy drinks had died with his ability to control his energy. He played horror games a lot more than he used to and was much more difficult to scare. Ryan felt like he was rediscovering his best friend and loved every second of it.

“Everything’s going really well,” Ryan agreed, enjoying Brendon’s warmth. “Enjoyed our day together.”

 _“So, you’re obviously still together,”_ Nev narrated, taking his role as host in hand again. _“And as two very famous people, I would like to ask— do you intend to come out before the episode airs?”_

Brendon shook his head in unison with Ryan. “We want it to be a surprise,” Ryan explained. “Let the fans see it like unwrapping a present. Have it public and shown positively and explained in a way that’s easier to understand when told by a third party.”

“And it takes away the nerves.” Brendon grinned at Ryan, because being nervous was actually the main reason Ryan and wanted to wait for the episode.

 _“I’m glad to hear you both are doing so well,”_ Nev said. _“Like we’ve mentioned, we don’t get happy endings very often with this show. It’s amazing to see two people come together and work out their problems. It’s very responsible and intelligent. We’re very, very happy for you both, and we wish you the best of luck. Trust and love and communication are the key to a good relationship.”_ Max was watching Nev as Nev spoke, and Ryan got that same inkling of romantic interest between them as he had before. _“I have faith you two can make it and be a paradigm for all people searching for love.”_

Brendon ended the video call after a few more nonprofessional questions, and Ryan was left feeling convicted.

. . .

“Brendon?” Ryan called out softly much later that night. Brendon had to leave in five hours for his flight; he was probably sleeping. But Ryan needed to tell him while he still had the courage. “You awake?”

Brendon snuffled into his pillow and rolled over, slinging his arm over Ryan’s body and grabbing a handful of Ryan’s ass. “Round two?” he asked sleepily. “Can barely keep up with you…”

“I wanna tell you about Greece…”

Brendon went stiff enough to rock the bed, and Ryan felt his stomach and chest clench with anxious anticipation. So many years of being with the wrong person had made him terrified of disappointing a potential someone. Brendon was more than just a potential, especially now, but that didn’t stop him from being scared of fucking up.

“It was a party,” Ryan began, knowing Brendon was listening. “A party at Dan’s. I drank back then, more than I do now. I didn’t drink often, but when I did, it was very “go hard or go home.” The only thing I’d ever done while drunk was either get really hands-y with Z, or fall asleep with whatever dog was in the house. So I let myself get drunk that night and expected to wake up with no memory, a hangover, and stupid stories that my friends would tell me.

“But… The next morning, that wasn’t what happened. I woke up with bruises all over my left side and a concussion. I was in Dan’s bed, too. He showed up with breakfast and painkillers and looked so fucking upset. He looked pale and dead and sad and tired and every awful emotion you can think of. I asked him what happened last night, and…”

Ryan hesitated. Brendon squeezed Ryan’s side to encourage him. 

“… Z liked to think of herself as one of those nonchalantly, progressively cool people. A total hipster. She liked to hang out under bridges and by train tracks and everything to make herself feel like she was the edgy one. And, apparently, that night she convinced everyone to check out the trains and take some stupid pictures. I was drunk and went along. So was Dan. A few other people came. Everything was apparently fine, until, uh… Well, Dan explains it as me suddenly clocking out. I stopped talking, stopped smiling, stopped drinking, stopped everything. He said I was like a zombie or a robot. That I stared into the distance.

“And then… he said that I just stood by the tracks. Just stood there. Everyone else was at least half drunk, too, so none of them did much but mess around and try to pull me and stuff until it wasn’t fun anymore. Dan said I stood there for a good ten minutes while everyone made jokes about me finally losing it. But Dan said that it stopped being fun when I… when I tried to jump in front of a train.”

Brendon’s hand tightened and his nails dug into Ryan’s skin. Ryan didn’t even flinch in the pain. Instead, he reached out and pulled himself closer to Brendon’s warmth. 

“I don’t know why,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to die. I was fine when I got drunk that night, fine when I woke up that morning. I’m not suicidal. I wasn’t sad. Things could’ve been better, but I wasn’t unhappy.” Ryan shrugged. “Dan said he was the one to pull me off the tracks. Said he took me to his home because he was too freaked out to leave me on my own. He didn’t want me to do anything. Said that he had no idea where that even came from because he thought I was fine too. I don’t know.” Ryan sighed. “I just… I wish I could’ve been better. I don’t know why I tried to kill myself, but it upset Dan so much. I felt bad. Especially since I had no explanation. No actual reason. I didn’t want to die, Brendon. I never did. I don’t get it.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Brendon mumbled into his pillow.

Ryan nodded and kissed Brendon’s bare neck, letting his lips linger over the pulse. “I’m glad I am too.”

“Think you’re gonna do it again?”

Ryan paused. “I don’t know. But I don’t drink anymore because I don’t want to do that to Dan again. And especially not to you now. I’m really okay, though. I’m okay. I was always okay. Things got rough, but they never got that rough. I’m not drinking just in case. I don’t want to scare anyone.”

“Why’d you go to Greece?”

“Dan thought it would be a good idea for me to get away. Disconnect. Explore somewhere new and create new memories in a place that is completely unmarred by previous memories. I’d never seen Greece up close. Always wanted to. I just got a hotel and enjoyed it for a few weeks. I bummed around and made a few acquaintances into friends. Met some adorable kids and enjoyed the sun and forgot sunscreen way too often. Ate some really good food and just… lived. Developed. Had a new life for a few weeks and did a mental detox.” Ryan hummed softly as he reminisced. “I enjoyed it. Enjoyed everything. And I had a ton of fun and I came back with a smile and Dan said I looked better and we were done. But I told Gabe about the apparent suicide, and then he told Pete, and Pete told…” He trailed off as he tried to work this out. “I don’t fucking know. Word travels fast when you don’t want it to travel at all.”

“Are you really happy?” Brendon asked, sounding as small as he looked whenever someone was trying to hurt him. 

“So fucking happy,” Ryan swore, kissing his neck again. “Really. I-I couldn’t think of anywhere or anyone I’d rather be with. I’m happy, Brendon. I’m not suicidal. I never really was. But, for some reason…” He shook his head. “I have no idea, okay? I can’t explain what happened. But I’m confident it won’t happen again, just, not confident enough to be reckless about drinking.”

Brendon sighed, but there wasn’t much relief in his tone. “Just kinda wanna focus on you being okay. Sound good?”

“I am okay,” Ryan promised. “I’m okay.”

“Whatever you say, Ry,” Brendon mumbled, slinging his arm around Ryan. Ryan nuzzled closer, shut his eyes, and fell back asleep with a huge weight off his chest.

. . .

“Do you think we’ll ever be like we were?” Brendon asked as he stirred his frappuccino and watched a bird narrowly avoid hitting the glass window of the cafe they were having their breakfast at. Dot and Bogart were lying under the table, enjoying the heat and the scraps that Brendon would “accidentally” drop from the table.

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked, enjoying his own coffee and panini. Brendon’s foot was pressed against Ryan’s inner calf, and Ryan’s entire body was obsessed with the contact, but Ryan was playing it cool. He had forgotten what if felt like to be in love with someone like this.

“We used to draw on each other when we were bored,” Brendon said. “You made a black eye for yourself with makeup after I got a black eye of my own so people wouldn’t pay so much attention to mine. You did my makeup. You chose my clothes. And you never thought twice about any of these things. We were so in sync, Ryan. So nonchalant about being a pair. It was effortless, you know? Like breathing. Are we gonna be like that again?”

Ryan smirked. “We kinda already are.”

“What?” Brendon frowned. “The hell are you talking about?”

“I knew you forgot a towel before you even called for one,” Ryan reminded him. “We’re already finishing each other’s sentences. You make me feel better about a lot of things. I don’t have to buy any plants to help my crippling loneliness. I’m pretty well balanced now. Pete and Gabe think we’re good, and that kinda means a lot.” Ryan shrugged and ate more of his sandwich. “You and I are good, Brendon. We don’t need to hold ourselves to any standards. We’re just gonna get there on our own, on our own time.”

Brendon nodded as he listened. “… The episode airs tonight.”

Ryan knew. He’d seen advertisements everywhere, fans were blowing up his phone, Gabe and Dan were teasing him relentlessly for the shots they chose of Ryan. Dan kept pausing at random moments that showed Ryan’s face and sent Ryan whatever ridiculous expression Ryan was making while mid word. Gabe just laughed at Ryan and sent him edits fans were making that put Cheez-Wiz into random scenes.

“Wanna watch it?” Ryan asked.

Brendon laughed and shook his head. “Don’t need to watch what I lived.”

Ryan smirked. “Think we’re gonna blow their minds?”

“Think I’m gonna blow you instead,” Brendon giggled. 

Ryan chuckled and finished his panini. As they walked back to Ryan’s apartment to help Brendon finish moving in, they held hands and Ryan breathed easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr
> 
> up next: "Two Vatos Locos Full of Carnalismo and Inamoratos

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com)


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